


A Host of Golden Daffodils

by thelittleteapot



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU - with Miraculous, AU since end of Season 2, Blood and Violence, Chloe Bourgeois - Freeform, Chloé Bourgeois Redemption, Gen, Major Character Injury, Minor Violence, Near Death, Older Characters, POV First Person, Tumblr, mentions of divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-01-20 14:11:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittleteapot/pseuds/thelittleteapot
Summary: "One yellow daffodil for my lost hair and cardigan. Another yellow daffodil for Emilie’s hair and sunshine in my solitude. One more yellow daffodil for some things left and broken. One yellow daffodil for a new light ahead."Chloé Bourgeois was never meant to be a hero. It was all an accident. A mistake.She never meant to trip during the chorus. It was all an accident.She never meant to uncover some dark and butterfly-kissed secrets in Paris. It was partly and accident.But Chloé Bourgeois never meant to save Paris. She wasn't meant to, but she did anyway.And it wasn't an accident. it wasn't a mistake. It was a choice she made on her own.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Chloé Bourgeois, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 46
Kudos: 90





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I may be late for doing a redemption fanfic for Chloe but I believe in Chloe Bourgeois since day one, so this is for her.  
I don't own the main characters. They are deeply based on Zag's Miraculous characters, however, I made some for story's sake and despite not being updated with season 3, there are stuff here that are based on the snippets that I allowed myself to have from season 3.

prologue  
chloé

Ten. It has been ten petals now, and it won’t be long before the soundless fall of the eleventh. Maybe rain isn’t always good for flowers. Rain tears them apart sometimes. Rain always takes something away from them…

“Chloé?”

…until there’s none.

“Chloé, do you understand?” Although Victoria Hales’ voice is butter and balm, it cannot conceal the lingering sinister in her sentences.

“Yes,” my voice was a stale bread. “I will never be able to dance again.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Let me rephrase that. I will be able to do a part in a zombie movie, but not in a ballet studio.”

She let out a sigh of exasperation then looked at me. I can tell from the look on her face that this isn’t how she’d wanted it to happen today, although I’m sure today isn’t going to end up so different from yesterday. Poor Victoria. I don’t know why she kept on doing this with me since it's already obvious that I don’t want to keep up with her.

She opened her mouth to say something but I immediately turned away and pretended like I was prepping myself for the obstacle cones I’m about to walk over. She had been yammering about the chances, possibilities, and silver linings ever since we started. She said the same things, and every day I wish she’d quit it. Nothing sounded more annoying and ridiculous than Victoria Hales telling me that everything’s going to be fine. I took every window of opportunity that I can see just to stop her from saying those. How can everything be fine, if everything would never be the same? A broken ankle can’t make the same pirouettes again.

I raised my left foot and walked over the orange cone. I did the same with my right and I can’t wait to get into the exercise with the floor markers because this is just so lame. Who lifts their foot this high when they walk? Nobody. Nobody, but me, because Hales said this was necessary considering that my strides and paces have been smaller, slower even. After being in crutches, I’ve been doing baby steps all over again. I went from ballet spins to zombie limps… I just made three sets of back and forth before my left foot sent one cone toppling over.

“See? I can’t even make it to four,” I said between heavy sighs, just before heading to the nearest couch where I planted myself, finally quitting.

I saw Victoria shrug then finally, she took a deep breath and looked at me with her supposed encouraging face. She is tired and frustrated, not to mention agitated. I am now  
under her skin. Good.

The downpour continues…

“Yes,” she said, and I raised an eyebrow, confused on what she meant by it.

“Yes. You can no longer dance,” she continued, then her watch beeped. She started picking obstacle cones and removing floor markers but when she was halfway through, she looked at me. I thought she was finally going to say that she can’t do it with me being a prick when her expression became gentle. “Without hurting yourself.”

It sounded almost like a sigh. I know this. I’ve even said this before she did, but the way she’d said it, it’s as if she’s finally ripping something away from me- like a limb, or a patch of skin in the gentlest way possible but not gentle enough to make it less painful.

The eleventh petal falls...

“You had a major ankle injury during your performance. Your surgery was a success…” she trailed off and it has suddenly stopped raining. The ambiance is fading but the tension in this room is just yet to start. There is a big lump forming in my throat. A part of me does not want to hear it, and another just wants to get it over with. I didn’t dare move, but Victoria was making her way to the couch next to me, leaving the rest of the materials on the tiled floor.

“I broke that vase last month,” she looked at the object, then back at me. Boring brown eyes against my pair of blues. I looked at the vase that she was referring to- a centre piece of her desk. It was plain and simple, the cracks almost looked like they were designed to be there. At least she does not have to worry about what kind of flowers she’d put considering they do not have to match the vase.

“I fixed it though,” she continued. “But I haven’t used it for a while now.” Her eyes went back to the vase.

I was quiet. I know where this is going and I do not want to hear it. I looked away and faced the window. I looked at the flower that I have been observing. Only one petal left. One more petal.

“And I don’t think I’ll ever use it again.”

Tears are starting to pool in my eyes and I have no intention of crying in front of anyone, especially my physical therapist. I just quietly looked at her and then to my feet, which despite the pain that comes and goes, were all ready to move to the door and storm out of this stupid vanilla-scented room.

“It has a different use now. Perhaps a better one.” She smiled and I can actually see a dash of hope in her eyes- her hope. I couldn’t smile back.

“Chloé, just because you can no longer dance. Doesn’t mean that there is nothing more for you,” I can say that she’s struggling finding words. “You can still walk. You know that, right? Don’t you think that’s more than enough?”

It started to rain again so I turned my face at the window just in time to see the last petal falling. There’s only silence when it finally joins the others. I looked back at the flower, or what’s left of it and I know, there’s nothing more for me right now. Not a single petal is left. I stared down on my supposed ballet feet and let the sound of starting rain answer her.


	2. claudette

chapter one

claudette

I wish I had enamel eyes. That’s what my mother wanted. At least, that’s what my mother wanted me to be. Doll-like. The fact that I convinced her to watch Coppélia because I was in it rather than her evening date with some American socialites has already got things messed up. What made it worse was when she realized that I was only one of the many chorus girls in the ballet. It was the middle of Waltz of the Hours when she spotted me on stage and I instantly felt her burning disappointment despite her being fifteen feet away. She watched me for a good ten seconds before rising from her seat and making her way out of the theatre before becoming an empty seat. Swan Lake has always been better than Coppelia.

When she was gone, everything seemed to be twisted. I just wish that everything really were and not just my ankle. They dragged me out of the stage and into the nearest hospital, then into my physical therapist but even I had to drag myself out there where I learned to despise the scent of vanilla. This is the price of not playing as the doll in the ballet- broken ankle and broken ballet dreams.

After so many voicemails, she finally answered. “I’ve called your therapist Claudette, go to her,” she said before hanging up, so I dropped the phone. Why can't she just visit me, I thought. I was about to call her again, tell her in a third-person point of view that her daughter can no longer dance after she tripped during the chorus right after she left the hall when Marie appeared. She looked tensed as she tried to hand me the phone. 

“Mademoiselle, your father,” she told me in a way that almost every nanny does. I let her talk to my hand, and she left the phone on the table just in time for me to see that the other line just hung up. The living room has never been so dramatically quiet. Just when Marie was about to enter the kitchen, I asked her if whatever it was my father called about then the pity in her eyes was clear as day and I hated her for that. I hated seeing that look, especially on her face. I hate that look that most people had been trying to face me with recently. 

“Home,” she said. “He wants you home. Soon is good.” Her broken sentences make me sick. She never spoke like this until I was without the crutches. 

As slowly as I can, I walked to the grand window and soothed myself with the view of the flowers in the mini garden of my balcony… flowers that Marie and I ‘cordially’ planted together a year ago. The begonias and oleanders are having their first blooms and they are just too beautiful to be looked upon. They are magnificent and they should be envied. I envy them. They could stand there and look so beautiful. I am beautiful, but I won’t be standing for long. I went back to the couch after six unanswered calls. My mother finally answered on the seventh and I know from her tone that she is annoyed and irritated, it was obvious in her four-word dismissive answer: “Call your father Claudette- Chloé.” Or five, that is.

Maybe Claudette is a girl with enamel eyes, if then, then I wish I was her. I wish she gave me that name because she forgets mine, most of the time. Always. I was fighting back the tears when Marie came running out of the kitchen as soon as she heard the shattering of glass. I looked at her for a short while before I finally had the will to apologize. She told me that this is the third time this week, the third time that I broke another framed family photo. 

“I’m sorry,” I figured that I should apologize twice because it’s technically the fourth one since I also broke and burned my photo. She knelt to clean my mess and when she was done, she stood and called me. I looked at her, waiting for her to utter a word then she began to slightly shake her head as if secretly saying no, then she said she’s sorry. 

I was furious! I hate her! She has no right to feel sorry for anyone, especially me. “Don’t be,” I told her and I began to stride to my room in the fastest way that I can manage, ignoring the subtle pain. Hales was right. How much painful would it be when they’re actually on pointe? 

It’s difficult when people feel sorry for you, or maybe I wasn’t just used to such dramas. I know when, or if I deserve things somehow and I am sure that I do not deserve their pity. They should save if for somebody. The only thing I’m not sure of is this broken ankle. _Do I really deserve this one?_ I asked myself as I sprawled on my bed and the next thing I know; it was already late at night but the city street is just as alive as the raging downpour and my phone has been ringing. The rain has always made me sleep a lot longer and I wish I never woke up. 

I answered and tried to remain in the comforting darkness of my room. 

“Chloé dear? Thank god! How are you holding up?” There has always been the same tone in his voice- a calming mixture of worry and pity and I have long been taking advantage of it. This time is no different. 

“What do you think?” I blurted out. He paused, as always. My father has always been unsure of what to say next. “I’m fine-”

“Come home,” he didn’t let me finish. “Please.”

“So Mom called you too, huh? Why can’t she just tell me that herself?”

“Chloé darling, you know how busy Aud- your mother is.”

She is always busy and ever since the two of you divorced everything just started to break away piece by piece. Ankle by ankle…

“And what am I supposed to do there? Help run the hotel? Did Hales call you too? If she is, then I’m firing her,” I told him although ‘firing’ is a strong, if not unfit word here. I really can’t fire her. I simply have to bail on the rest of the sessions. 

“I was the one who called her honey. Please, just come home. We’ll find a better therapist, you can attend Gabriel’s fashion show…” _No_, I answered silently. “Anything you want, just name it. Just…” He faltered. “Just come home. Please.”

As far as I know, this is a classic move of someone vulnerable, or someone who is desperately getting rid of things, of someone, and in this case, me. Me and my dramatic aftermaths that happened because of some broken bone.

“No,” I put it out there plain as day, cold as the night like tonight.

“Chloé, please? For me? For Audrey? For your mother? I bet you miss Paris too,” There was a subtle change in his tone but I don’t think Paris wants me back as I recalled the countless terror and akumatizations that I have caused a few years back. Paris is way peaceful and way better without me in it. Some of them back there would even agree with me on this, and if Paris could speak, I think she will too.

“No.”

“Stop! Just- stop that!” Silence followed and for the first time, Daddy is no longer the meek one. I can tell he is mad at this point and only I can make the former mayor of Paris madder than red. “You’re going home whether you like it. I will inform Marie myself. You leave the next day. I’ll send Jean and your private jet to fetch you. Marie and Jean can tie you up if they find it necessary. Do you understand Chloé?”

I was too tired to speak up and I see no point in doing so, especially when Jean finally comes in the picture. I breathed on the phone, not sure to say ‘yes’ or ‘over my dead body’. There was a lingering silence after, then Dad’s voice became calmer, almost back to its normal state. “I’ll take that as a yes. Sleep now, Chloé.”

I know it was not the best idea since it is my father’s, but at least Marie gets to have a break. Only stars know what she’s been through ever since the epic Chloé Bourgeois trip happened, and Jean must be panicking to his knees at the moment. I almost laughed when I remembered the way he would carry all my bags at once…

But most of all, my father never called me Claudette.


	3. le grand paris

chapter two

le grand paris

Paris reminded me of nude lipsticks. I used to wear them here before, but the idea of using ‘nude’ to cover something is just too hilarious, so I rummaged in my purse for another shade. _Coralina_. A coral shade should give them the illusion that I’m not Chloé. After all, nude lips were my thing before I moved on with lip gloss. I caught Jean looking at me while I put Coralina on my lips but then, where was he supposed to look? Limos aren’t really that big.

He cleared his throat. I know he’s trying to get my attention.

“Adrien is at a university. He’s taking history. Chinese, to be specific,” he looked like he’s expecting me to say something. I didn’t and just put on my white-rimmed sunglasses.

“Miss Raincomprix is-“

“I know,” I cut him good, and he shrugged. It’s not like they do not have social media, but I admit I needed to know since I stopped following everyone in here ever since I landed in the streets of New York. I even stopped watching Alya’s blog and Sabrina never even contacted me.

I can hear the city’s symphony- the subtle hum of cars passing, the chatters of people and tourists, and the banshee-like scream of the siren at a distance… Paris is still Paris, I thought and began to wonder if the people in it stayed the same. Silence filled the small space we’re in and as I looked ahead, I saw it. The structure is just too familiar even when it’s got me standing against the light. Le Grand Paris… one should feel like a celebrity here, but ‘celebrity’ is my kind of normal.

Jean immediately helped me out and as soon as I breathed the Parisian air, a certain feeling of familiarity seemed to cripple me from the inside and then I was scared. I feared people seeing me. Fortunately, I am wearing jeans and a cardigan, and then I decided to put my blonde hair down, realizing that it was a lot longer than the last time I was here.

Jean and I made our way for the front entrance and as I was casually making my way to the glass doors, a few paces behind Jean, someone called me so I turned. His face was so familiar though he never really was an acquaintance. He was still wearing the silly cap. I never expected to bump into someone from high school the second I set foot here, let alone Nino Lahiffe.

“Chloé?” It was the second time he called me and I realized that I’ve been staring at him. “Chloé Bourgeois?” My whole ensemble had him confused and I think I should applaud myself.

“Let me guess, robotics?” The reluctant tone in my voice seemed to have taken him aback. He noticed that I was taking the context in his books that are filled with numbers. He managed a small laugh, and I noticed that he was still wearing those bracelets and ballers. I wanted to tell him to dispose of them because they don’t look like they’re his thing and most of all, they’re no longer a thing.

“Engineering. Computer engineering.”

I gave him small nods- one thing I was able to learn from the boring motion exercise with Hales; nod if you have nothing to say, or if you do not want to say anything that might piss them.

“And you?”

There was no malice in his question, but something ticked right away. I just dreaded this and I should have expected this. There was a long pause before I could answer. “Therapy,” I told him, then I went inside and never looked back.

I spotted Jean waiting for me at the lobby. He told me that all my things were already upstairs. I then slowly made my way to him, trying to avoid bumping into someone who might recognize me. “Don’t let anybody I know know that I am here,” I told him, emphasizing each word in order to make it sound foreboding and I wished he could see my eyes underneath these Chinelle sunglasses.

I used to hate it when non-celebrity people go here. But now, I think I’m the one who shouldn’t be here even though this hotel is my very home.

“Mademoiselle,” He called just when I was about to make my way to the nearest elevator. “Your father wants-“

“He can wait.”

The elevator closed then I was finally alone for a moment, but then the elevator door opened again, and I stared at the most familiar sight: a white floor and accents of pink tiles with rose curlicues, matching pink couches and curtains. My rooms. My whole floor. My luxury. It was overwhelmingly quiet and pink, like a ghost town, only cleaner and a lot more chic.

When I went to my bedroom, I realized that most of my old stuff was still there. I walked and spotted the shoes, some of them I won’t be able to wear again. I walked around, still trying to believe that I’m here. This room floods me with emotions and memories that are both right and wrong. I got rid of the curtains that kept the light from entering through the tall glass windows and I no longer knew which is better; the sunset view in my apartment in New York that slices through the trees of Central Park, or the sunset here that offers me, blinds me even, with the view of a sleeping sun as it sets behind the roof of Parisian buildings?

I went out to the terrace. This rooftop has been my happy place. But I was only fourteen back then. I sat at one of the benches slowly since I am now skeptical of their strength. The nostalgia was gradually taking over, so I removed my white flats and let the back of my feet feel the warmth of rough cement. I then noticed the weeds that sprung from the cracks of my balcony floor. _Have I been away that long?_ I asked as I slowly bent and began plucking them out. Jean was supposed to be the one doing this stuff. When I was about to pull the last one out, I spotted movements in the rooftops of nearby buildings… And there they are, the duo or red and black- Ladybug and Cat Noir. They were jumping from one window to another and that only means two things: troubles are afoot, or troubles were already dealt with. I can still remember when I used to stand beside them, but now I can only watch them disappear at the distance, swallowed by the sunset.

I looked down at the weed that I’ve been holding, ready to pluck it out when I noticed the yellow flowers. They were small, almost unnoticeable. But beautiful.

“Must be the birds.”

Startled, I turned and saw Jean. I know he was referring to the weeds.

“Or you,” I said and gave him the rest of the weeds I’d plucked. He took them from me and turned his eyes to the spot of the tiny yellow flowers. He bent and I knew what he was about to do.

“Don’t touch that one,” I ordered, and he didn’t. I then went inside the room with Jean trailing behind me.

“Monsieur requested for you. You’ll be having dinner together,” he told me.

“Where?”

“Mademoiselle wishes to not be seen so…” he trailed off while he scanned the terrace. “We wish the terrace is fit enough to fulfil such wishes.” 

I told him it is fine. It’s better. He then made a gesture towards the door and three staff personnel rushed in carrying silver trays. One of them stared at me for a while and then I saw them whispering to each other as they started setting things up in the balcony and somehow, I’m glad I left a few flowers to be my company for the night. Dad arrived, he kissed me on both cheeks. He always does, he’s French after all, and then the rest of the dinner went into a blur until I had my hands on the pink macarons.

“I got that from your friend’s bakery,” he said after sipping on his champagne. The macaron was half-way through my mouth.

“You know I have no friends, right?” I told him after swallowing, just before I bit the other pink macaron in half. Daddy was quiet, although I never meant to be mean, I just want to be accurate.

“Did you tell her?” I asked while he was trying to chew on this green macaron. He looked at me although confusion seemed to flood his face at first.

“No.”

Good.

“She wasn’t there after all.”

Dad’s phone rang and I knew that was his cue to call this a night. He told me he’d already booked me a session with a shrink. An Emilia Le Claire. He said I ‘need’ it, whatever he meant by that, or maybe he was confused with the word ‘therapist’. I need a PT and not someone that I will be talking to. Not someone boring.

Daddy then hugged me and made me some promises that won’t be coming true. He then sealed them with kisses that are supposed to bring good nights and sweet dreams but this stuff no longer works when you’re over eighteen. 

As soon as he was about to leave the terrace, I stood up and almost tripped, making the clutters on the table sound. 

“Did you call Mom? Does she know I’m here?”

“Yes.”

No.

“What did she say?”

The staff that brought the foods are now back to gather everything else. I saw them look at me once again.

“She said, ‘I’ll get back to you’.”

Voice mail. I nodded, and then he’s gone. 

I waited for everyone to leave and then I pulled out my ballet shoes. It was what I was wearing when I had the scandalous trip and Marie has no idea I’d snuck it out. I went back to the balcony and put them on, and I felt safe again despite the wrongness of everything. 

I know I’d already admitted that I won’t be able to dance without hurting myself but even I don’t buy that, so I tried to stand on my toes. I only had a couple of seconds before the pain made gravity’s job of pulling me down easy. I hit the bench and sent it to a new location with a new position. This is ridiculous! I look ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! I took off the ballet shoes and threw them even though I cannot throw that far. Then there was a thud on my roof. I whirled around, searching where the sound was coming from.

“Chlo?” 

If it weren’t for his reflective green eyes, Cat Noir would’ve successfully blended with the shadows. “Chlo, are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m perfectly fine,” I said as I tried to straighten my composure. 

“You don’t look like it,” despite the cat eyes, I can actually tell this kitty is sincere. There was actual worry. I just wished he did not feel sorry, but why would he?

“I dropped the blue eye shadow years ago.” 

He just stood there, watching me and I can feel a sense of familiarity in the way he spoke, and in the way he looked at me. But then, most people look at me and talk to me in that same manner recently. 

“Don’t you have some saving to do, kitty?” I asked, changing the subject while I motioned for the door to my room. 

“Everything’s taken care of,” the concern was still in his voice, so I looked at him. Not everything though, I thought. Not for me. There was a short silence. “Of course,” I told him just before I closed the door, leaving him there. 

It was surprisingly easy for me to sleep until Jean woke me and I sensed the presence of flowers. I opened my eyes and Jean was standing by the foot of my bed- a bunch of roses and lilies in his hands. I then realized that I was clutching on my yellow stuffed bear and the stuffed ladybug. I let go of them when I saw Jean looking.

“Monsieur Agreste is here to see you, Mademoiselle”

“Which one?” I asked, still sprawled in my pink bed. My voice is soft, still recovering from sleep. Jean has never been so specific since.

“Adrien.”


	4. manette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own any of the main characters, but I hope you don't mind me giving Chloe two first names. XD

chapter three

manette

A delicate time-lapse of carnations blooming…

That’s what I was after Jean spoke his name. Each syllable was a ray of sun. I didn’t even bother to put robes on and I’m laughing at myself. Just when I was about to leave the room, I realized that Adrien wasn’t supposed to know that I am here. I rushed to Jean who was already outside my room. “I said, ‘people that I know’. That includes Adrien.” I told him as if I was in the middle of a conspiracy gone wrong. 

“I am sorry Mademoiselle, Monsieur Agreste insisted.” 

But how could he? 

I sighed, trying to calm myself down. I can actually feel my earlobes turning red as I slowly made a beeline to my living room and there he was, the once boy of honey and sunshine. His hair looked almost the same- a bit ragged blond. An unconventional halo, I thought. He was leafing and reading through the pages of a book filled with Chinese characters, and he didn’t notice me standing.

“Book report?” I asked, getting him out of his reverie. He looked at me, startled. He slowly stood up, not removing his green eyes from me. I almost felt vulnerable, but then it was Adrien. He stood as he closed and left the book on the couch.

“Yeah,” he sounded as if trying to pretend he wasn’t startled.

We were quiet while our eyes were locked, and it’s as if we’re waiting for someone to hand us a script. I sighed. Here goes nothing, but then…

“Who told you?” I asked him and I seem to have caught him off-guard. 

“Told me what?” 

I noticed the slight change in his voice, although this is what guys normally do since their voices change. But something seemed so familiar despite the fact that this was our first time talking to each other for quite a while. 

“Did Nino tell you? That I’m here?” 

“No,” he answered as if a cat got his tongue. 

“Then who told you-“

“Well, er…” he faltered. “I heard that-“

“Of course. Rumours,” I scoffed. Why won’t they be not talking about it? About me? ‘Chloé Bourgeois returning to Paris after an epic and embarrassing trip in New York’. It must’ve been fun though, it’s about me after all. “Style Queen’s daughter falling out of style, huh?” I said and then I remembered mom and the national television… It’s as if it’s happening again, and I just demonstrated it for the second time. 

“Chlo,” He called, and I looked at him. “I came here to see you.” I don’t know what to say and it’s hard for me to find words. Adrien was quiet too, and I thought silence has a sound after all. 

“Chlo, are you alright?”

Something felt like Deja vu right after he asked, and Adrien’s eyes were looking for answers but I’m empty-handed. Fourteen-year-old Chloé would’ve said she’s fine and would even try to kiss him, but I’m not. 

We’ve been standing for a while and my right ankle was telling me to sit down but in doing so, I’ll be inviting Adrien for another series of awkward talk. “I have to go,” I told him and walked away. I shouldn’t have done it but it was too much. He was too much. I can’t bear the look on his face. I thought I would never be able to dismiss someone like Adrien. Especially Adrien. 

“I hope the flowers were all right.” He called while I was already heading to my room. I want to say that I hate roses but there was worry in his tone so I just closed the door. I am sorry Adrien. 

I presumed Emilia Le Claire is a minimalist. Her office was all white, almost immaculately white and I stood out effortlessly with my pale blue jeans, white top, and light yellow cardigan. I am both sun and sky here. The couch was remarkably soft so I made myself comfortable, putting myself in my usual position and if it weren’t for the gravity of my situation, I would’ve believed that this was a photo-shoot for La Mode Magazine. 

Le Claire finally sat on the couch across. Her hair was strawberry blonde cut short- a subtle contrast to her all-white domain. She smiled at me but I had no intention of reciprocating.

“So… Chloé?” 

She does not have to ask. 

“You can call me Emilia.”

I just looked at her, thoroughly confused. “What would you like me to call you?”

You can call me Queen Bee, and I almost laughed. “Do we get special nicknames now? Because I believe I go by many names,” Went. Went by many names, I thought. “Well, that is if you were mother.”

She looked at me but despite her calm demeanour, I can say that she thought that she just found an Easter egg. She tried to make an apologetic smile.

“Well, I thought Manette sounds nice too. Except for the meaning,” her hazel eyes looked straight against mine as she sat in a way a dignified rose would do in front of a tiny yellow flower; beautiful and proud but without malice. 

“I don’t like it. It already sounds like ‘Marinette’.”

It has always been Chloé. Just Chloé. ‘Manette’ was almost the forgotten part of my name, the forgotten part of me although I know it has always been there. It’s just rarely acknowledged and for the record, I know what it means: _bitter_, unlike ‘Chloé’ that connotes the lush imagery of a starting spring. Marinette here is merely an excuse. Why did I even mention her?

“Chloé it is then,” the tone of her sentence was almost inviting, but then what is a rapport for? 

Emilia then started asking me a series of questions. I’ve never been in a shrink before but I see no difference in being here and being in an interview with Nadja Chamack. I wondered what my father thought when he said that I need this. This is so boring and I wished I did not walk away from Adrien. Our awkward silences are better than this.

She asked me if it was my first time, and how am I holding up… kind of like the stuff that slam books ask. Then she asked me what made me decide to go to her. I told her that this was all my father’s idea, and that maybe she should ask him. She just smiled. She smiles once in a while and I thought it was weird.

The rest of it was a total bore that it made me think about the roses and lilies that Adrien gave me this morning and how they smelled so sweet, bees should be buzzing into my room.

“What do you want, Chloé?”

She locked her eyes on mine. She must’ve seen my eyes dazing after those boring questions. I already told her that this was just my father’s idea, if not his first one ever.

“Nothing,” I said, my eyes firing back at her. “I have everything.”

“No,” her voice was soothing, like the scent of jasmine. “I mean, what do you really want?” There was an emphasis on every word. I wanted to say ‘another Chinelle dress’, ‘pairs of Tourbillon shoes’, or ‘a new phone’, but I think I know better.

“To dance,” I told her. It was half true. “Again.” Almost true.

“What else?”

“Dancing is the only thing I’m good at,” I said, not answering her question. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Oui.” 

What happened next seemed to have glitched in my memory, and I can only remember Emilia making a beeline to her desk. She put her note and her pen on top of it. 

“So I guess we’re done here,” I called out to her. 

“For now.” She replied. 

“Great,” I stood up and went for the door. This was impossibly boring that I’d rather be in one of Hales’ motion exercises. I was halfway towards the door, she walked towards me, I can almost smell her perfume. 

“I want you to do something. For yourself.”

And I thought this was already over. 

“This is not me being a therapist. Our time’s technically over. Take this from someone, from a stranger… if you will,” she paused. “Chloé, you’ve never lost anything. None at all. And you have more than you think. Talk to people. Other people. Not your father, or your butler…”

_And my mother? _

“And if you can, be honest…”

_I am never honest._

“Especially for yourself…”

“Talk? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?” I asked.

“In a way, yes, and you’re pretty much welcome to but I think you don’t want to at the moment,” Even her smile does not show any hints of sarcasm. “Everybody needs a friend.”

“Everybody leaves. Eventually,” I said as I went out. _Even mom, even Sabrina_, I added in my mind. I was about to close the door when she spoke again. The door frame was now a barrier between us two. 

“I agree,” She said. Emilia Le Claire never failed to confuse me. “Manette is not a name I would’ve chosen for myself either. But ‘Chloé Manette’… Now that has a certain flair to it, doesn’t it? A sprouting plant in a bitter sea. That’s one brave shoot.”

“Or just a tenacious weed,” I said to her before closing the door. 

Traffics used to make me nauseous, but ever since New York, I got used to it. But this traffic was different. I don’t like waiting here and doing nothing at the same time, plus the fact that I’m stuck here with Jean. 

“Would Mademoiselle care to have some lemonade?” 

I didn’t answer. And why lemonade? For goodness’ sake, we’re in the middle of traffic. 

“How about a glass of water?” he asked, and the muffled sound of cars honking answered him. “If mademoiselle wants anything-“

“Shut up,” I snapped, dismissing him. After all, Emilia does not want me to talk to my butler although I know what she meant. I almost laughed at Jean’s face. Perhaps nineteen-year-old Chloé isn’t so different from the fourteen-year-old Chloé.

The movement was slow and for the first time; I was tired of sitting. I let my eyes wander on random things- a paper cup rolling on the gutter, a bird pecking on the ground, a lady’s purple hat. I then turned my head on the other side and saw this familiar car, and I know he is close. 

I scanned the whole place and Jean must have thought that I was acting like a turkey. It took me a while of looking and peering and squinting through stalls and sidewalks as I looked for any signs of Adrien. It didn’t take me long to spot him.

He was standing a few feet away from the university’s grand door. Nino was with him and so was Alya. Then I saw her standing by Adrien. So close. Her oriental hair glistened under the French sun. I didn’t know what happened next. All I know is I went out of the limo, telling Jean to go as I skid along narrow spaces between cars. Someone even told me to piss off, but hey, I’ve already been to New York. 

“Adrien!” I called out. It took me three times to call him and I was already done fighting each step of the stairs before he heard me.

“Chlo?” He wasn’t expecting me, but why would he?

“Are you all right?” He asked, and it’s as if I’m stuck in another déjà vu that I cannot really point out why. It was a spur of the moment and I soon realized I was hugging him, making the rest even more confused. He has always been taller. I can hear his heart beating as I pressed the side of my head against his chest.

“I want to tell you I’m sorry,” my voice was softer than a whisper and I realized that he was entangling me from him. I can feel a ring in one of his fingers- it was cold. 

“For what?” he looked worried. He always does. 

“This morning. It was wrong. I was rude.”

_And I’ve always been_. 

“It’s okay, Chlo. Everything’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” I exclaimed, fighting back tears. I’m surprised the others haven’t talked yet, but I guess that’s better. Then I noticed some students were looking at me too, their faces similar to those faces when I was on stage. Something close to panic kicked in. 

“Chloé?”

Marinette’s voice was almost sweet, but I was already running, or should I say limping myself away from them. I was only halfway through when Adrien caught me by the arm.

“Chlo, wait.”

I felt a bit of metallic coldness from his ring again.

“Do you want to come with me? At home? We can talk there… if you want.”

This was not an offer, this was an exit. I looked at him and I can say that he was ashamed of me. _Has he always been?_ Tears started to pool, and they were warm. Traitorously warm. He noticed, and he quickly led me down the stairs and into his car, a few blocks away. I saw his driver. Perhaps Gabriel was still so protective even when his son is almost twenty. 

I looked back to Nino, Alya, and Marinette. Their faces were almost similar to each other. Have they rehearsed this moment? Then, Adrien closed the car door. 

He just plucked out a weed.


	5. le manoir d'agreste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear. I paid attention to the details but my mind wants to do its own thing.

chapter four

le manoir d’agreste

“Is this fine?” 

Confusion dawned on Adrien’s face as he turned the knob of their grand door. “Yeah?”

“Is this fine with Gabriel? I mean, with you bringing me here.”

“Yeah,” He motioned for me to come inside.

I don’t remember the last time I was here. In fact, was I even here once? I might have managed to get through the gates but beyond these doors, I don’t think so. 

The mansion wasn’t really that awe-enthralling. It wasn’t even that alienating, it’s merely my first time to see the insides of this place: big double doors with geometric lines, white tiles and white walls- almost similar to Emilia Le Claire’s office if it weren’t for the black and geometric linear accents. There is a grand staircase and an enormous portrait of Gabriel and Adrien… it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. The place is white and quiet. Too quiet, perhaps, since I can hear Adrien breathing beside me. 

“Is Nathalie here?” I asked, although I am not that concerned, I was just testing the acoustics of this place. 

“Yeah,” he said, then I let my eyes wander around and I spotted Adrien doing the same thing as if he’s never been in his own house.

“She’s probably out, must’ve run some errands for Father. Would you like me to take your jacket off?” He asked, looking at me. Here is the ever polite Adrien Agreste. 

“It’s a cardigan but no, thank you,”

Although, as a fashion model, he should have known the difference between a jacket and a cardigan. 

“That’s where we eat,” he pointed to the double door on our right. “That’s where dad works.” He pointed to the left. “And the stairs.”

“Cool” was the only thing I can say. An awkward silence followed, and he ran his hand through his hair, his silver ring glistening under the lights and that’s how I sensed that something is bothering him. He would always run his hands through his blond hair whenever something is bothering him.

“Listen Chlo, this is a bit weird, but I think it’s safer in my room.”

“So it’s still not cool with Gabriel, huh?”

“It’s cool, as long as he doesn’t know,” he said smugly, looking and believing that he just made a very good joke. 

“Okay,” I told him, trying to hide a smile. You don’t always get to see a funny Adrien Agreste or maybe it’s just me. He nodded, and it only took for him to do that to invite me and make me hustle my way towards the stairs. 

His room was big but I don’t think it’ll be any bigger than all my rooms combined. Plus, it was designed to be convenient. It was an all-in-one room where you can do all sorts of recreations and sleep at the same time. I don’t even have to mention the bookshelves which I thought was a part of Belle’s library in Beauty and the Beast. You can really lock yourself in here and totally be happy about it. 

“Yeah, this is me,” He must’ve caught me looking around. 

“Cozy,” I said as I darted my eyes on the ceiling-to-floor glass windows. “And well lighted.”

“We can always make it darker.”

Of course.

I caught sight of his enormous computer screen and then I fought the urge to ask why he’s got slices of Camembert cheese on his computer table. “Nice place,” I finally said. 

“Thanks,” he replied which sounded more like a question. 

“The World of Adrien Agreste,” I said as I made a slow turn just so I could see everything. I wonder how many girls would kill to trade places with me at the moment. Adrien sat at his study chair. Perhaps the white couch was just too formal for him or for me. 

“Oh, sorry,” he said as he tried to stand up. He must’ve seen me looking at the white couches because he made a beeline towards the couch that’s facing the tall glass windows. 

“It’s okay,” I said, and he stopped to look at me, planting myself at the foot of his bed. “It’s not every day you get to sit on a French model’s bed.” 

“Knock yourself out,” he said with a nod as if tipping an invisible hat and I thought he was inviting me to lie down on his bed, so I did. I even spread my arms a little that I thought I looked like I’m about to make a half snow angel. I heard him pulling his study chair near me, and then a short series of my deep breaths followed. 

“Thank you,” I breathed. I rarely say these three words. “For getting me out of there,” I added, eyes still locked on the ceiling. “This isn’t necessary. You could’ve just dropped me in some coffee shop, you know.” 

You can always drop any plucked-out weed anytime, anywhere.

“I know you hate coffee. And I doubt you want to be anywhere but your room at the moment.” 

There was pure understanding in the way he said it. There has always been something about Adrien’s voice that makes certain truths less painful, then he was quiet for a moment so I pulled myself up and returned to my previous sitting position just so I could see him. 

“It’s all right Chlo,” his eyes unintentionally looked down at my supposed ballet feet and I think this one deserves an explanation since most rumours only appear in tiny chunks no matter how sufficing they all seem to sound. 

“Cat Noir forgot to catch me once.” 

“What?” Adrien sounded alarmed than concerned, but why would he be? He tilted his head to the sides, thinking, recalling even. 

“It was years ago. It happened at Miss Bustier’s birthday. You don’t remember. You’ve been kissed- infected, I mean. Ladybug locked you inside your locker.”

“Oh,” he now looked like he wanted to know more. “Okay…”

“I was the reason she was akumatized,” I said, trying to sound matter-of-factly than guilty, which I was. I saw Adrien’s face and I know he thought of the same thing. He would. And I can’t blame him.

“I was trying to slide down from a building through his staff thingy. Cat Noir’s staff thingy that can actually go on many lengths,” I continued. “He wasn’t able to catch me. Rose tried to help, but she wasn’t fast enough so I fell, and I twisted my ankle.” We both looked down at my foot.

“But I saved Ladybug that day. In a way.”

He then looked at me, almost surprised. 

“Well, I have to let Cat Noir kiss me so I could save her.” 

Adrien shifted on his seat then began scratching the bottom of his lower lip slowly with his forefinger, eyes not looking at me and I believe that something is bothering him. “Did you?” He asked.

“Did I what?”

“Did you and Cat Noir kiss?”

Why does he care to know?

“Just on the cheeks, I guess. I mean, if Ladybug was a few minutes late with her lucky charm cleansing, I think we could have. Our lips were only inches away. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing,” he said though he doesn’t look like it. 

“So my ankle ached every once in a while after that but I’d managed. Then I tripped back in New York. While I was on stage,” My sentences were broken. “And now I cannot put them on pointe.”

“Why’d you do it?” Adrien asked, and I looked at him confused. “Ballet, I mean. Since that your ankle was hurting you already,” he continued and I wish he never asked. 

It’s the only thing I’m good at, I want to say but can’t. Instead, I just said “I love it,” which was not even close to the truth. Adrien must have felt the discomfort in me so he tried to say something. 

“I’m so-“

“No. Don’t be,” I cut him just before he could say it. It was gentle. I am fed up with people’s sorry, and it’s crippling me from the inside. His mouth was still open, as if in a pause. 

“…so glad you’re here Chlo.” He continued, although it must’ve been just a last second change. I just smiled, unsure of what to say so I looked down at my foot and tried to recall every pirouette and every arabesque that I can no longer do. I was starting to miss it and told myself to get used to it when my reverie was interrupted by a phone ringing.

Adrien answered his phone then for a few seconds his face turned into a picture of excitement. For a moment, he forgot I was here with him. He hung up then looked at me and I existed again but the excitement that I saw in his face started to fade away. 

“I forgot about the symposium,” he said, although he could’ve just said that he was leaving. He was about to open his mouth again…

“I don’t want to leave,” I was almost dismissive with him to the extent that he seemed to be petrified. Frankly, Adrien shouldn’t be surprised. I looked down and he must’ve noticed me clutching on the duvet. 

“All right,” I looked at him, unsure and surprised at the same time. “You can stay.” He continued, then managed a small smile. “Just stay here.” He emphasized every word in that sentence, his green eyes locked on mine. “And wait for me.”

I’ve always been waiting. “Sure.”

Adrien put his bag and his phone on his computer desk. He then pushed a button on the wall near the glass windows, which made them darker. 

“This should be enough to make him think I’m here,” he said as he walked towards his closet and took out a pair of sneakers. He put them on and tossed the ones he was wearing unto the floor, next to the bed. “You can hide your shoes under my bed,” he said, and as I was about to push them under, I got a whiff of his worn shoes’ smell and I tried to hide the laugh. 

“Somebody agrees with you, you know,” he said, noticing the playful disgust on my face even though he stood a few feet away from me with his hands in his pockets. “Just pretend you’re sleeping.” 

“Or I can just lock the doors,” I said, pointing my French-tipped finger to the door. 

“That’ll be too suspicious. For him, that is.”

“I understand,” I replied and I understood how big of a risk this is and I should not be doing this. I should not be letting him do this. I should get out of here, but I felt safer here. Quieter. “I’ll pretend that I am you sleeping whenever I hear him coming in.” 

Adrien laughed a bit. “That’ll work. I’ll just sneak out.”

I looked at him, wondering why.

“Whenever the car’s gone, he knows I’m out. The car’s here so-“

“How are you going to do that?”

“I have my ways,” he said then he slowly made his way towards the door. He looked back at me. “See you Chlo,” he’s the only one that calls me that. “It’ll be quick.”

Maybe it was just the dimness of the room or my imagination, but I think Adrien winked just before he disappeared. 

I wrapped half of my body with Adrien’s blanket, lay down, and waited. And waited. And I began to hate this, plus the Camembert’s smell was almost off-putting. I was about to get up just so I could toss it in the trash when I heard subtle footsteps getting closer. I was right, this mansion was just too quiet. I hurriedly went back to bed, wrapped myself and pretended that I was sleeping with my back facing the glass windows. I wished Adrien made it a lot darker but then it’s a good thing that I am blonde.

“Son?”

I don’t even have to guess who. 

Gabriel knocked three times before opening it slowly. The sound of his steps was so soft I can feel how much he does not want to disturb Adrien’s slumber. My slumber. I can feel that he is near the foot of the bed silently watching me, watching Adrien. I hope Adrien does not come sneaking in or else it is our end. My end!

“Peaceful.”

His voice has always been calm and cold…

“So peaceful.”

…and I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him smile even once for as long as I can remember, then I realized that he was talking to himself. This is weird. I tried to stay still, waiting for him to leave. And then he was trying to say something but I cannot make out the words, my pounding heart was too loud. Please leave Gabriel Agreste! 

He was finally walking somewhere in the room and I wished I was a bubble for this is the best time to burst into oblivion. 

“Master?” I almost laughed. What is Gabriel doing? He changed his cold voice into a shrill one, almost squeaky. 

“Be quiet Nooroo.” 

Wait. That was Gabriel. But who was the-

“Sorry Master,” the squeaky voice said. I almost jerked up just so I could see who it was. I’m sure it wasn’t Nathalie or the grumpy chaperone. It can’t be a grown up’s voice, and it’s unnaturally squeaky to be a child’s. It’s almost like a doll’s. I bet Adrien does not even know about this, or maybe he just never told me. 

“Let’s not trouble him Nooroo.”

Nooroo?

I can feel Gabriel walking away, thank the stars but I would not let things go that easy. The door then closed, and I waited for Gabriel’s footsteps to fade a bit.

I know Adrien told me to wait inside and never venture out, but this was too creepy and too suspicious. I quietly got out of bed and slowly made my way out of the room. The floor was so cold against my bare feet but I’m glad I took my shoes off since it was never ideal for sneaking. I heard Gabriel going down, so I slowly made my way to the stairs, constantly reminding myself to be quieter than the breeze. I was almost by the foot of the stairs when I caught sight of him trying to make his way towards the atelier and before he was about to enter; I had a glimpse of a figure- it was small and floating in mid-air. It appears to be lavender from my vantage point, and it’s so small it could be a child’s toy or a big key chain. I waited for him to close the door then I silently rushed down the stairs. I checked for Nathalie but no sign. I’m glad she had errands to do. I bit my lower lip as soon as I arrived in front of the door to Gabriel’s workroom where I slowly made a small opening just enough for me to peek and there he was…

Gabriel was standing in front of the painting of Emilie that looked as though a master painted it. Klimt, to be exact. Just right above his shoulder was the light purple creature and as I looked at it closely, I can almost see the resemblance of it with Pollen; big head, shrill voice, and they levitate! I don’t know what they are but this could be Pollen’s sister, or brother, or cousin perhaps. I was even surprised I was able to stay quiet and if it weren’t for Nooroo, the floating tiny creature, this whole thing could have been too mundane, not to mention too depressing with Gabriel Agreste silently staring at a painting of his missing wife. This should be the person people should feel sorry for, not me. 

Gabriel went close to the painting, then he put his hands on either side of the canvas. I can only imagine what he’s been through and what he’s going through at this moment. I should move away, give him some privacy but I was too eager to witness him cry since that it’s not every day you can see Gabriel Agreste in the flesh, let alone smiling or crying. Plus, the purple creature was just too much to forget. I waited for the sound of his whimpers but no sound came out then I realized Gabriel wasn’t trying to caress the canvas, he was doing something else and after a few seconds Gabriel and the tiny lilac creature seemed to have been sucked down below and they disappeared. 

I could’ve popped my own eyes out. “Where in the stars did they go?” I whispered to myself and I realized I haven’t said a word since Adrien left. I headed straight to the painting of Emilie before I casually looked around to see if somebody’s here, or maybe Gabriel and Nooroo was just around the corner and I’m being pranked, but I saw no sign of them. There’s just Adrien’s photographs, models and designs. Funny, I don’t see any photos of my mom here considering that they were such good friends.

I turned back my attention to the painting and followed what Gabriel did. I put my hands on either side of the canvas but I feel nothing, and nothing happens. I let my hands continue to search and I think I already look crazy. I almost have forgotten about the searing pain in my ankle since I haven’t done any motion exercises since I left New York, but I was too eager to find something. I resorted to tapping the surface of the painting. _Sorry, Emilie!_ But nothing happened, then I realized that Gabriel was taller than I am so perhaps tiptoeing mustn’t hurt as much as standing on pointe.

Wrong. 

It only took me a few seconds, just enough for me to elevate for a few inches and raise my hands further up the canvas when the pain began to sting. I held on as long as I could, but gravity has always been great at its job. I was about to fall and for a split second; I decided to let my hands do all the support. It was a sudden move. I slammed both my hands on either side of the canvas, just further up from where they were before. I want to laugh because I look like someone trying to do wall push-ups in the most ridiculous way possible. 

“Utterly ridiculous,” I muttered as I tried to steady myself and then I heard a whirring noise followed by some hidden wiring mechanism underneath the floor and then a round tile slowly dropped into the shadows below. Everything was so weird.

I removed myself from the painting and put myself a foot away from the cavity in the floor that somehow looked like a manhole. I was about to bend and take a peek when the double door opened. 

“Sir-“

Nathalie’s supposed lazy eyes almost popped out from their sockets and she looked like she wanted to scream and shoot fireballs at me.

“Hi,” I tried to sound casual as I tried to get closer to her, but Nathalie’s face is saying that I just walked on a spider’s web and there is no escape. 

“I guess you don’t remember me-“

With all the panic and the sight of Nathalie, I’d forgotten about the manhole for a second back there and now it’s too late. I ached all over and there’s a ringing sound inside my head. Everything was black and I couldn’t find the strength to stand up. I cannot move easily so I was compelled to stay still, then the pain started to ebb away and I know I am dying. This was such a lame way to die. 

Adrien was right. I should have waited.


	6. emilie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things may look so different here...

chapter five

emilie

There were a few things I remember: Adrien. His room. Camemberts. Gabriel. A shrill voice. Something small and purple. The painting. A hole. Nathalie. Then an unpleasant fall, and it’s as if that recalling the fall was also summoning back the pain. Still alive, I told myself. Barely, but alive. I tried to twitch my body and my arms bumped into cold walls. Have I fallen down right into a vent? Or a gutter? I quickly opened my eyes although I had to blink a few times to clear out the haziness, and then I found myself flatly lying inside a rectangular box. I can even tell despite the dim lights that the sides of it are a rare tone of gold, and that’s for someone who’s got more than just a 24 karat toilet. I looked straight upwards, but it was too dim, however, I can smell the presence of plants, of roses, perhaps?

I pulled myself up, not expecting to struggle so much, and so I swore to never skip a schedule in Hales’ motion exercises. I finally put myself in a sitting position with both my legs extended forward, realizing that I was lying on soft velvety cushions and I was right, there really are plants present. 

Underground places are old school so are secret gardens, but underground gardens? Someone here is trying to be like Persephone. I scanned the place and realized that it was just this particular area adjacent to an enormous circular window that’s filled with growing shrubs. There were bushes of white roses a few feet away from where I am and that’s where I noticed it… Right behind the bushes of those white roses was another golden box of standard gold. Its sides were embossed with minimal designs and a glass lid glistened. The worse thing is the fact that someone was actually inside of it, someone I recognize. 

Everyone thought Emilie Agreste was missing, then dead. _Dead_. Fear and panic dawned on me as I started to realize it’s a coffin. This was a coffin. I am in a coffin! A gold coffin! I need to get out of here, I thought. A golden coffin is still a coffin and a classy death is still death. I tried to pull myself up, but it was harder than I thought and the sight of Emilie inside the coffin was giving me the creeps. Underground places weren’t new in France, but I didn’t expect one to be underneath the Agreste mansion, let alone with a corpse of Emilie Agreste in it. They even grew plants here! 

I shooed the thoughts away as I continued to struggle my way out of the coffin, but my legs were too painful. I just hope I never broke anything, again. I felt the sweat forming and there’s just nothing more disgusting so I tried harder and harder that I could hear myself grunting. I was about to attempt another hard pull when my peripheral vision saw movements on the far left. 

The figure was shadowy and the light from the other circular window wasn’t helping. I can only tell that it was human-like. There were also some small and luminescent things. Some are on the floor and I’m sure some were actually flying. I was looking at it, almost petrified when I realized that the figure was slowly walking towards my direction. It was walking through a bridge when I noticed that it was holding a cane. I then convinced my almost crippled body to move but panic got the best of me that even the growing sound of the figure’s subtle footsteps were drowned by my pounding heart. 

“Miss Bourgeois.”

The voice echoed, and I know this was not my first time to hear it. 

Hawkmoth stood exactly at the foot of my coffin. I had to look up and his costume didn’t change since the last time I saw him although the cane really goes with it. The mask is the ugliest thing! He looked like a Psychopath with that mask and then I realized, he is a psychopath. He looked at me and I know there’s a pair of cold eyes behind that mask so I did the same and then something kicked in and I began adding the maths here: Gabriel, the lilac creature, Emilie, a secret passageway, and now that they’re closer, butterflies! This is not impossible, I just didn’t see this coming. I wanted to scream but I know it’s useless down here so I didn’t. He muttered something that consists of words like ‘wings’ and ‘fall’, and then I’m now eye to eye with Gabriel Agreste.

Gabriel was standing at the foot of my coffin together with the tiny lilac creature- Nooroo, and everything became too much to take in. Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth! Paris’ renowned designer is also Paris’ diabolical super villain! How is that for a twist? 

I’ve tripped right into the tiger’s den and I think I stopped breathing for a moment right there. He looked at his right hand, clutching something, and then to me. 

“You owe me a pair of glasses, Miss Bourgeois.” 

I realized that he was actually holding a pair of broken glasses, although I am not so sure why’d I owe him one. 

“Sorry? I’ll buy you a new one,” it’s nothing my father can’t afford. I would’ve wanted my answer to sound so piercing, but it was softer than the velvet cushion underneath me. “I didn’t even touch it,” I added. Still soft. 

“You didn’t,” his voice was colder than ever. “You just landed on it.” 

Gabriel put them inside his trouser pocket then hazy visions started to appear as if I was remembering fragments of a dream. I fell, I hit something- someone, and then the floor. I almost landed on Gabriel Agreste!

“When my secret passageway opened again, I knew something was wrong. So I checked. The next thing I know, you were falling down right at me,” he started to explain as if he had been reading my mind seconds ago. Nooroo was looking right at me, its eyes concerned, a warmth that foils the coldness in Gabriel’s. 

“So you tried to catch me? Thanks?”

“Oh,” he paused. “I had no intention of catching you, Miss Bourgeois. I’m even surprised you’re still alive.”

“Yes, this is miraculous,” I said, no pun intended, and with that said, I wondered what his Miraculous is. I’m sure it’s not the glasses. He scoffed, then slowly walked his way towards Emilie. Gabriel put his hand on the glass lid and as I looked at his face, all the coldness that I saw seconds ago are now gone. Now, there is only grief.

“It’s a pity you have to be here,” His voice echoed but his eyes are still locked on Emilie’s. “That casket is supposed to be my wife’s. But then you had to drop yourself down here.” 

But why would he do that? Was he going to change the casket?? Why? She’s dead. I thought corpses should have to be contained, not to mention buried. 

“That should be an anniversary present,” he continued as he caressed the glassy surface of the lid and then took a heavy sigh. He stayed quiet for a second. “She’s not dead. She’s not.”

I then looked at Emilie. I looked at her closely and saw the subtle rising and falling of her chest. Asleep? For how long? 

“She’s just sleeping. She has been, for a long time,” he said as he turned his face towards me. “That’s embedded with rare green gemstones. From diamonds to those of which I think you haven’t even heard of. That’s Emilie’s, and you’re inside of it.” The despise in his tone was as clear as the blue in my eyes. 

“Help me out then?” I sounded as if I’m suggesting something. 

“You’re not getting out Miss Bourgeois. You know too much,” he said, and at that moment, I knew I might need a casket soon. 

It’s useless to shout, and I cannot even move, let alone fight my way out. I should abandon all hope, but not yet. Maybe not yet. 

“My father will come looking for me,” the classic Chloé Bourgeois game is on. “And Adrien-“

“Adrien will say that you went home. Is that right, Nathalie?”

“Yes, sir.”

Nathalie appeared as a figure in the shadows and her lazy eyes were back. She handed Gabriel my phone. My phone with the diamond-encrusted case! “I’ve deleted all data and disabled all tracking features.” 

“I have a picture there with Celine Montgomery!” I yelled, and for the first after being scared, I was angry. I bailed my audition for Swan Lake just so I could meet her!

“You know you don’t have to do that Nathalie,” Gabriel said, and I missed seeing the sinister in his tone. Just when I thought he was beginning to be on my side at that second, he went to the near end of the bridge and curtly dropped my phone as if it was just a piece of tissue paper. I waited for a shattering noise but there was only a splash. Waters! I want to throw a fit but I’m too tired so I looked at him silently. I hate Gabriel Agreste and all his designs! 

He then walked back to Emilie, Nooroo followed with Nathalie a few feet behind them. Nooroo isn’t talking at all right now but he looked straight at me when they passed.

“I wanted you dead Miss Bourgeois,” he said as if he was talking to Emilie and not to me. “Then I remembered that you have been so helpful to me before, so I’m letting you live.”

“But not for long,” I blurted, then there was silence. I wondered if Adrien is somewhere up there right now. He’s probably reading, or secretly eating some smelly cheese.

He motioned for Nathalie and whispered to her, then she walked away from us. A moment later, she came back and all the other lights lit up. I saw a bouquet of red and white roses on Nathalie’s hands. I also began to notice the bruises and scratches over my arms and legs. Why am I still alive?

“My ‘almost’ intervention ruined your fall. Maybe that’s why you’re still alive,” Gabriel said and with all the lights lit, I noticed how he looked like he needed some beauty sleep. “And not because you were Miraculous,” he added and I’m pretty sure he can read minds.

He opened the glass lid of Emilie’s casket and Nathalie handed him the bouquet of freshly cut roses. Nooroo took the old ones from Emilie’s hands and Gabriel replaced them. When he was done, he turned to me. They all did. 

“You’re not even that exceptional Miss Bourgeois.” 

I wanted to say how I hated that word that my mother once used, but instead I said nothing because it was true. It is true.

“Does Adrien know?” I asked, and I know that he knows what I meant. There was a short pause and somehow his body went stiff. 

“Leave my son alone,” he said, then he started to walk towards the bridge, Nooroo with him. Nathalie stayed behind, standing by the casket I’m in and I had to look up just to see her face. She started to elevate something from the sides. The glass lid.

I rattled but was too weak and too late. Nathalie closed the lid and now I’m a living dead. I pounded on the glass repeatedly, ignoring the pain in my arms. I wanted to kick but my legs won’t allow me. I desperately asked her to get me out, promising my silence, but who would believe that? 

“Please,” I pleaded but she said nothing and started to press something in the outer part of the lid. A soft hiss sounded and misty air started to come in. Dim lights also lit up in all sides of the coffin and I believe I looked like a ragged Chloé doll to be displayed. She looked at me, and I asked her one last time. 

“Goodnight Miss Bourgeois,” was all that she finally said, then I felt her pressing something on the outside again. Another hissing mechanism sounded, and I started to feel drowsy. The picture of a sleeping Emilie came into my mind before everything went back to black. 

I was woken up by Gabriel bursting in anger. 

“I’ve already told you, Nathalie, no. You can’t.”

“Sir, I am willing to help.”

They have changed my casket position. It is now slightly elevated in the side where my head is, almost similar to how Emilie’s was set up, and only that mine was located perpendicular to hers. Nathalie and Gabriel were walking towards us- towards Emilie. 

“I won’t let you! No! This is not your fight!”

Nathalie stopped on where she was standing but Gabriel kept on walking. None of them bothered to look at me although I noticed him wearing a new pair of glasses. 

“This isn’t a fight you can win alone,” Nathalie’s voice was almost lifeless, although her words made Gabriel silent. If only I know what they are talking about. 

“That peacock miraculous is damaged. You know that Nathalie.”

What Miraculous? Which Miraculous?

“It’s broken. And it will take you too,” Gabriel finished, he sounded as if he was out of breath. He then placed his hand on Emilie’s glass casket. Does he do this all the time? “And I’ve lost too much already,” his eyes are trailing on the sight of her. Emilie was not just Gabriel’s wife or his pedestal. She was his religion.

“You’ve hurt yourself in the last time you’ve used it,” he retorted to his calm and cold demeanour. “You should no longer wield it, or it will be your last. I won’t even risk it for myself.”

There was a short silence then Gabriel looked into my direction, noticing the fact that I’m awake. He then motioned for Nathalie who then opened the lid of my casket. Freedom is however, impossible still. 

“Can you move?” Nathalie asked. You tell me. 

“I just fell yesterday,” my sarcasm is no match with the look of Nathalie’s lazy eyes. 

“You fell four days ago.”

Impossible! She must have seen the horror in my face because she explained that they’ve been sedating me, and they tried to mend me when I finally doze off. That is creepy, not to mention the fact that I haven’t even bathed for days! 

“And now you eat,” It sounded more commanding than inviting. 

Nathalie led me to the opposite of the wing where another enormous circular window rose above us. We were crossing the bridge when I heard Gabriel following us and when we reached the other wing, a table for two was set right where the light from the window hit. This would have been dramatic if it weren’t so creepy. 

“Help yourself,” she said, motioning me to sit down. I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as an entrée. There was a glass of milk and water. Three strawberries and a slice of Camembert cheese again. But why the cheese? Is this the Agreste meal? I want to complain, but the inner blob of Chloé Bourgeois is too ravenous. 

“That’s patterned in Adrien’s daily breakfast,” Gabriel as he pulled the chair opposite to me. I think I swallowed almost all of it in an instant, but the Camembert was still off-putting and I bet Adrien does not even eat these, judging with all the Camembert slices in his computer table. 

I noticed Gabriel watching me. He was almost robotic and statuesque. I’ve never been creeped out by the presence of Gabriel Agreste before. 

“How is Audrey?”

This was his first question, and I almost choked on my glass of water. 

“Busy. Why don’t you call her, she might be missing me?”

_She won’t_, I echoed in my head. 

“She won’t,” he said, and I am almost sure that he can really read thoughts. “You’ve been on the news, Miss Bourgeois. Guess what, you’re in New York,” he continued. 

Suddenly, I feel like vomiting. 

“But I’m here. Under your grounds,” I emphasized every word in my sentence. 

“You ran away, Chloé. That’s what the news says.”

I knew they staged all this. People only hear what they want to hear, and that will be the truth even though it wasn’t. Now, no one will try to find me. There’s no way out and despite being famous, I doubt they’ll pay attention to the loopholes. They’ll lock me up and sedate me if they knew I was up to something. I don’t know the way back to his workroom and I don’t know where the water below goes, or if it is even clean enough. I cannot even put myself to trust Gabriel being Hawkmoth in keeping me alive, it’s too suspicious. There has to be a catch. 

“You’ve always been waiting, haven’t you Chloé?” he said my name for the first time and I knew he was up to something. “Always waiting. Just waiting.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know you do. You have been waiting but nothing, no one, ever came. Not even your mother.”

“That’s not true,” I said, unconsciously clutching on the onyx pendant of my necklace. 

“Why do you lie Chloé?”

“I don’t.”

_I’m denying. _

“You waited for my son, but even Adrien does not reciprocate. He doesn’t want to reciprocate,” he leaned closer. “He was often displeased with you.” 

True. 

“You waited for Ladybug but even she had to send someone else for you.” 

Another truth. 

“You waited for the ones you love and adore but none of them came. And you know why, don’t you?”

_Yes,_ I agreed silently. My hand is still clutching the onyx pendant. 

“You only did ballet, even when you are half good at it, only to impress your mother once more.”

Half true. I did it to have her again. 

“Then you ended up hurting, breaking yourself, failing…”

Was this Le Claire’s idea of talking to someone else? I don’t think it’s working.

“Unloved. Unwanted. That’s what you are Miss Bourgeois. That’s what you are to her. To them.”

The tears fell on their own. This was such an unpleasant meal. This was the most unpleasant meal, and it’s not even because of the Camembert cheese!

“And you’ve always wanted to be like them. To _be_ them.” 

“Are you done?” I asked, my voice trembling. 

“Quite,” his tone was sinister, and it scares me. 

“You’ve always been looking up to your mother, always copying her, worshiping her…” He locked his eyes on mine, like a predator cornering his prey. 

“What do you want?” I asked, and it’s almost like a sound of retreat. 

“But you weren’t exceptional for her. You adored and devoted Ladybug in the past but you weren’t trustworthy enough for her.”

I was finally having a soundless cry. Nothing hurts you but the truth you want to deny. 

“And you weren’t good enough for my son. You aren’t good enough.” He gritted his teeth, so white despite being in the dark.

There’s only silence. Even Nooroo is silent. I’ve even forgotten that he was here and now his eyes spoke of pity. 

“Nevertheless, you still strive to reach them.”

“I don’t-“

“But you are. You do,” He didn’t let me finish. 

“…want to hear anymore,” I said, trying to stitch up the sentence he’s cut off. I then jolted standing up, leaving him on the table with smelly cheese. I’d rather spend my last days sedated in a golden coffin than be with Gabriel Agreste. I was walking, limping, on my way through the bridge when he called. 

“Tell me, what is exceptional about you? Besides your mother?” 

I stopped, and I now I wanted to burst like a bubble as his voice echoed and I think I’m back in that time when my mother said those words in front of him. What does he want? He knows he’s the one winning in this game. A validation? 

“Nothing.”

It was almost a whimper, and I am not sure if he heard, but why would I care? I walked towards the coffin. Towards Emilie. And I believe certain that pieces of me dissolved after Gabriel’s every word, and now I’m empty. He was right about me.

This is where the last petal falls. 

“Miss Bourgeois, I think we can change that,” his voice loud, but it does not echo. It wasn’t long for me to realize that it was just me. This wasn’t the first that Gabriel AGrest went inside my head.

“I can give you the power to be anything, and anyone you want to be. You can create an army who loves you and fights for you. You need not wait to be loved and welcomed any longer. Miss Bourgeois, you will be my masterpiece. You will be the Empress Morphosia. You need only to give me your loyalty and get me those miraculouses.” 

Hawkmoth has been a master in the art of persuasion. I wanted to say, ‘in your dreams’, or ‘wrong move Hawkmoth’, then I realized that maybe this is my only way out. My only chance. “You can count on me, Hawkmoth,” I said, in an attempt to deceive him but his transmittive power is overwhelming and it has been a few years since I was last akumatized. 

I remembered morphing into a combination of Style Queen, Queen Wasp, and Antibug before sinking into the darkness. 

Being akumatized is being driven mostly by your desires. You act by impulse, and you’re braver. Right now, I wanted to be like my mother, to be Ladybug… I wanted to be Queen Bee, but most of all, to be a part of something. To belong. To truly belong and not necessarily loved, and not necessarily by an army. But I won’t resist Hawkmoth now, not yet. It had to be well-timed, so I went with Hawkmoth’s flow as I tried my hardest to cling unto some part of me somewhere, somehow.

I thought of home, of yellow flowers, and coffee tables…

I thought of spring’s green shoots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to take a short break before posting the second half of this fic. Although, you can find me on tumblr @cherchloebourgeois because that's where I primarily post everything.


	7. le jardin secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I have been away for too long and I apologize for that. I also kinda did a bit of a formatting in the first half, and now all is well. Here is the sixth chapter, start of the second half. Happy reading guys.

chapter six

le jardin secret

Dark. It was dark like in a windowless room, where there was only one, lock-less door with a keyhole. Akumatized is being half dead and half alive. I can only peek through the tiny keyhole to see what’s happening… to see what I’m doing. To see who I’m terrorizing. But sometimes, the keyhole would disappear and I’m back into this pitch black of nothingness. The keyhole will only return if I think of fallen seeds and young sprouts.

I heard muffled screams and explosions. I smelled smoke. I felt heat and pain, and the keyhole made me see myself raining terror in Paris all over again as if it was the French revolution.

Horrible. Terrible. I cannot describe how being unable to control and stop yourself from doing terrible and horrible things felt like. But the worst thing was knowing that you have that horrible part deep inside of you. I believe I am crying and screaming at the moment, but I can feel some part of me out there that’s laughing at the same time. I think Hawkmoth has gained some skills!

I heard Ladybug and Cat Noir screaming and they already sound distressed. I then heard Rena Rogue and Carapace shouting in return. There were other voices too, some I do not recognize, and if it took Ladybug and Cat Noir to call this many backups, things must be terrible. I must be terrible, and I hated myself for that right now. I’ve been screaming ‘sorry’ too many times, despite knowing that they won’t be able to hear me out there.

I was busy picturing the yellow flowers in my terrace when I felt something hard hit me in the face, followed by something sharp and tiny pricking me in the neck. Pain immediately flooded my whole body that I cannot move, and that’s when I realized there is a new Queen Bee in town. I know how this Queen’s venom works too much, I can really tell.

I started to think where the akuma might be. I was in the middle of remembering leaving my sunglasses in the limo, my shoes under Adrien’s bed, and my phone being tossed in the water when the keyhole reappeared. It was bigger and clearer, and that’s when I knew I am partly in control again of myself. But I knew that it won’t be for long.

I saw Carapace picking up his shield and I’m sure that’s what hit me in the face. Cat Noir’s cataclysm was already activated but judging from all their faces, they do not know where the akuma is. I had to help, but I am not so sure and I’m running out of time. I decided to dodge the bullets.

“Necklace! Ladybug! Necklace!” I yelled. I never took that necklace off. I never took it off ever since I turned ten. Mom had it delivered to me two days after my birthday. It was a late birthday present, and it was the one I treasured the most.

I am not sure if they heard me, or if I indeed yelled but when I saw their faces showing both shock and amazement, I knew my scream went through the keyhole and just when I thought I was saved, Hawkmoth’s voice blared in my ears. “What are you doing, Morphosia?”

Escaping from you. Can’t you tell?

“The akuma is in the necklace Ladybug!” I yelled again, ignoring Hawkmoth’s question. He knows exactly what I’m doing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” There was rage in him, but I have no time for that now.

“Hurry! Please!”

“Stop this!” He yelled inside my mind and it stung my ears. “Stop this, or else I will take away these powers and you will be back to being nothing again!”

I can actually picture him gritting his teeth and stomping his cane on the steel floors one too many times. “Go ahead. I don’t need it,” I told him.

The keyhole grew bigger and everything was so clear than before except for the afternoon haze. I squinted, it has been days since I last saw the light of sun. I felt both my hands covering my ears, and that’s where I realized I was back to my body again. I was in control. Ladybug and the other heroes were just weirdly standing in front of me, as if petrified. Cat Noir’s cataclysm was still intact and when I was about to yell at them and ask them what in the stars they were waiting for, Hawkmoth intervened.

“Do you really think they will accept you after what you’ve done, Miss Bourgeois?”

No.

I was starting to feel the heat and floating feeling, then my vision turned into a vignette type- the keyhole was starting to disappear again. It slowly became smaller, and I am returning to the pitch black room.

“Look at them! Look at their faces! Look at Ladybug! Tell me what those faces say!”

I looked, but the keyhole became smaller and smaller in every face I turned to look. Darkness again devoured me.

“You can never be one of them, Miss Bourgeois. You do not have what it takes! You do not have the heart for it.”

Truth slid out from his lips like bitter honey. If there were such things. I know the butterfly wasn’t leaving and if the keyhole disappears in the darkness, Morphosia will be back out there in a second. None of the heroes can help me. Not even Ladybug. No one but me. I know they cannot save me, and the least I can do right now is help them find me and in that way save me. And stop Hawkmoth once and for all.

Hawkmoth gave me the power to turn into anyone I know, so I thought of morphing into someone who will serve as a sign- a clue as to where I am. Where Hawkmoth is. I thought of someone whose face can lead them to where I will be after this.

I thought of yellows, greens, and blues... like the flowers in a spring morning where the sun soars like a soaring gold above green plains. This has to be right. This has to be it. This has to count. This should be worth it. After all, this was my last chance.

I saw their faces through the keyhole. They all looked confused. At least they’re thinking. Cat Noir even took a closer look.

“That’s it! Come back here! You are nothing but a piece of shame, Miss Bourgeois!”

_Shame_. He had me at shame. I felt the butterfly fluttering loudly inside of me. Morphosia was returning, and the keyhole was slowly disappearing. I tried my hardest on locking my eyes on the heroes. _Please find me_, I thought. Then Cat Noir took another step closer, his green eyes searching for something. He was reaching for me. Help me kitty. And then the keyhole dissolved, but just before it disappeared, I heard Cat Noir utter a single word: _Mom_.

I was back in Gabriel’s secret garden and I was on my knees in the middle of the bridge. Freedom has never been so painful. I gasped for air as if I’ve been holding it for too long. The left side of my face and a part of my neck hurt. I kept my eyes shut, not wanting to see the mess that I am. Then I felt tiny ticklish sensations in my arms and face. I opened my eyes and saw luminescent white butterflies fluttering around me. And when there are butterflies, Hawkmoth wouldn’t be so far.

The sound and cadence of his footsteps was now too familiar. I can hear him making his way towards where I am. The butterflies fluttered away from me, and now I stood right in his shadow.

“Three days,” he gritted his teeth, then held me by the jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Things have been going on perfectly for three days and you just have to ruin it!”

His grip went tighter and there was a lot of pain, but I never made a sound. Not even a whimper. Somehow, I promised to never cry again.

My hands fumbled for his fingers as I tried to loosen his grip but I don’t have the strength to do it and thinking I have been out there for three days made everything worse. Paris must be a total mess!

“Why did you morph into Emilie? Why did you drag her into this?”

It worked! I morphed into her.

“Tell me! Why?”

I only let out a whimper. The pain was too much to take and Hawkmoth had no intentions of loosening his grip until I gave him an answer, and as long as he was holding my jaw with this amount of force, I cannot give him one. I _won’t_ give him one.

I just stared at him as I fumbled for my onyx necklace. Once I had it in my hand, I immediately pulled it off, breaking the gold chain, then gracefully tossed them in the waters below. I let Hawkmoth watch me do it. Now my chances of being akumatized is now one accessory less.

“You just threw away your mother’s gift.”

He finally released his grip and just looked down at me. How did he know?

“She won’t notice,” I said, then I let myself sit down on the steel floors of the bridge with my legs extended. I heard Nathalie rushing in together with the faint sound of Nadja Chamack’s voice.

My eyes had been stinging, but I opened them anyway. Nathalie was holding an iPad, and she was showing Gabriel something. It wasn’t long for me to realize that it was a news segment.

_“After almost three days of being under the rule of Empress Morphosia, Paris may now breathe again following Morphosia’s sudden disappearance. However, though the heroes themselves wanted to assure the people of Paris their safety, they themselves are disturbed after the last transformation of the villain. Just before vanishing, Morphosia turned into Emilie Agreste- the wife of our leading designer, Gabriel Agreste. With Emilie Agreste’s face, Paris and her heroes are confused as to who the villain really was given that Morphosia’s previous form showed a resemblance to the akumatized forms of Audrey Bourgeois and her daughter, Chloé Bourgeois. However, both are reported to be in New York, so the questions that everybody, even the heroes are trying to ask are; who is Empress Morphosia?, Where is Emilie Agreste?, Is she alive?, What is her connection to all of this?, and what does the Agreste family had to do with this? What will they say?”_

It was three days of being a terrible person. I cringed at the thought.

Hawkmoth transformed back into Gabriel and returned the tablet to Nathalie as I crawled myself near the railings just so I could lean my back on it. _Three days_. No wonder why I am so tired. I think I am going to pass out again.

Gabriel walked his way closer to me.

“So you plan to turn the attention on my family? On me?” He knelt just so he could look at me in the eyes. “I have to say that was a charming plan, Miss Bourgeois, but it’s nothing I haven’t anticipated. I know you well enough and I am sure you know what a web of lies can do.”

Gabriel let out a smirk, but all I can do in response is lean back and feel lifeless.

“You need not to worry Nathalie. The press can be taken care of, all that we need to do is give them a good enough story.”

“And Adrien? What will you tell him, sir?”

Gabriel slowly stood up, and it seemed that he did not know what to say. Coldly, he looked at me and right now, I wish he couldn’t read my mind because I know one thing that both Hawkmoth and Gabriel don’t.

“Nothing,” his answer was so plain. So lifeless. “I just have to join him in his sorrow. The image of Emilie will only bring us back the pain of our loss.”

Gabriel then took a step back and whispered something to Nathalie. She held out a pair of handcuffs and tethered me to the railing above my head. They then started walking away from me, but Gabriel suddenly stopped and went stiff. Nathalie took a step back away from him, confused.

“If it weren’t for your blue eyes and round face, Miss Bourgeois, you would have looked like her. Fortunately, you didn’t,” he was talking to me without looking at me. “Her eyes were the calmest of greens I’ve ever seen,” he continued. “Yours may be bright, but they’re not like the sky. They are the colour of shallow waters and turning into Emilie is a stain on her name. I am sure you’ve dismayed my son again. You always do.”

They passed by me, and Nathalie turned off some lights. I can smell the white roses from here and when I saw Emilie sleeping, I felt sleepy myself and somehow, a part of me wanted to go back to the coffin. 

In silence, I apologized for what I have done in the past three days and wished that they know that I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I wish Adrien knew. I wish he knows that I never meant to hurt anyone- any of them. Eglantines never asked to be thorny. 

I let myself cry to sleep with only one thought in mind. One secret that only the partial darkness and I know; Adrien is Cat Noir.

I dreamed that I was back in New York. The succulent plants outside the window of my room were covered in dew, and the sky was the colour of a white pearl. There’s no pain and there were no pink sheets anymore and I felt all right. Somehow, I felt happy. It has been a long while since I have felt this much happiness, especially when the door creaked open, revealing a brownish blonde hair. Mom’s hair was longer, and she was beautiful. She always was. She always is.

“Mom?”

Mom just smiled, and it was unlike her. She never smiled in this way. She never smiles this kind of smile to me, but I don’t care. She’s here, and she’s here for me. She sat at the foot of my bed and when I pulled myself so I could hug her; she stood up and stepped back, slowly returning to the door. She called me by my name and it’s as if I was those yellow flowers covered in frost that’s finally being touched by the sun. It felt warm.

“Chloé,” she called me again, but her voice changed. It was small and hauntingly familiar.

“Chloé?” This was the third time, and she sounded as if she wanted to ask me something, then she just gracefully closed the door on her way out of my room. _Don’t leave me_, I wanted to say but can’t because my jaw hurt when I tried to open my mouth and that’s when I woke up to see Nooroo inches away from my face, holding a small glass of water.

“Chloé?”

“What are you doing here?” I asked despite the pain, but Nooroo didn’t answer. Instead, he slowly put the brim of the glass between my lips and tilted it. I lifted my head, and I never thought water could be so sweet.

It didn’t quench my thirst, but I was happy to have them. Then, Nooroo held a small candy drop that looked big on those fingerless hands that grazed my lips when he put the candy drop in my mouth.

“I am sorry. This is all I can carry.”

I closed my eyes the moment the taste of sour raspberry graced the inside of my mouth. It was my first meal after being akumatized. I almost laughed at the thought that Gabriel cared enough to not let me go without an empty stomach.

“Thank you,” I told him softly, but Nooroo just stood there, almost not knowing what to say next. He just looked straight at me for a while. Then it hit me. This was the first time that Nooroo was thanked.

“Welcome,” I said, then struggled to smile despite the pain. “You’re supposed to say ‘welcome’, or ‘you’re welcome’ whenever someone thanks you.

“Oh,” Nooroo blushed. “You’re welcome Chloé.”

Nooroo’s tiny voice made me feel less lonely, and somehow, it made the garden look a little less dark. I then wondered how someone so kind and caring could be behind so many corruptions of emotion. Then, for some reason, I thought I should be the one in Nooroo’s place. I have used people. I have hurt them, and I have abused power that was not even mine. I did terrible things just to get my way through things. I deserve all this pain.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked, and it was almost like a whimper.

“Because I need to,” Nooroo said, then he sat on my knee. My jeans were ripped, and some areas were covered in dust and some unfamiliar stains. But Nooroo doesn’t seem to mind.

“No. I deserve this,” I felt lighter after saying it. “I’m a terrible person. You know that.”

“No,” Nooroo’s voice may be tiny, but it pierced, somehow. “You’re not a terrible person. I’ve seen what you felt.”

_What did you see?_

“What do you mean?”

“When miraculouses are activated, men and kwamis become one,” Nooroo’s adorable eyes stared intently into mine. “And in that fusion, kwamis could share the wielder’s emotions. We get into their minds. I know how master felt about you.”

Nooroo levitated, and now we’re staring at each other on eye level. Somehow, I forgot I was being cuffed.

“And when butterflies infected you, I saw everything too. I saw fear.”

I was afraid that this might be another trick where I’ll get akumatized in the end. I braced myself for another round of mind games, and I promise to be strong.

“Hopelessness. Sadness,” Nooroo’s voice was more like a whisper, then I realized that this was why I thought Gabriel can read minds. It was all Nooroo, and Nooroo had been inside my head too many times already.

“And kindness, and compassion,” Nooroo smiled, then cupped my scratched and bruised face with those itty bitty hands.

“You’re not a terrible person, Chloé. You never were. You were just broken too many times, you thought you were one. You believed you are one. You acted like one. You’re just scared to be left behind. You’re just afraid to be left alone. And you’ve been alone for a long time.”

Nooroo touched my lower right cheek as if searching for something, then I realized he was wiping away tears. I didn’t know I was already crying, so I hid my face. I soon felt Nooroo moving away but this once creepy and tiny purple creature is the only friend I have for now so I kept the conversation going.

“So Pollen’s a kwami?” I asked between sniffles to change the subject. The taste of the raspberry drop is starting to fade.

“Yes. It has been a long time since I last saw her. I miss them so much.”

Then Nooroo talked about kwamis, and how they sprung into being, what they look like, and as soon as he was describing them, something hit me like lightning. It was a memory, and it sparked in my head as it brought back other memories. It was small and almost plushy. It was something red- cherry red, to be exact. It was cute, but all these were attached to a memory where I smelled like a rotten fish. I shook the last memory away and focused on the red and small details.

“Ladybug’s kwami should be red, right?”

Nooroo paused for a moment, but later confirmed it and even told me that Tikki, Ladybug’s kwami is the most ancient, and the sweetest kwami Nooroo knew.

“Does Tikki have a black dot on the top of the head?” I asked as if it was my Eureka moment.

Nooroo froze and with that gesture, I knew I was right, then I felt terrible. I dreaded knowing it. I have always adored Ladybug despite knowing that she won’t give me the least bit of attention unless I can be of help, or if I was the one akumatized, or if I caused the akumatization.

I have always been rude with Dupain-Cheng, and she was with me in most of those days, but those days were so far away now. I never even noticed Ladybug’s hair back in the Eiffel Tower since the last I saw Marinette, her hair was longer. She was so clumsy back in high school, the total opposite of Ladybug who has always been grace under pressure.

I must’ve muttered something unconsciously because Nooroo asked me to repeat it. I didn’t try to tell him about Marinette and Ladybug since Miraculous fusions will put her in danger. It will put Adrien in danger, and with that thought, I realized that Ladybug and Cat Noir, or Adrien and Marinette, have always been in love with each other without even knowing it.

I leaned my head to one of my arms and told Nooroo that I needed to sleep. I really do. Nooroo bid me goodbye and even reminded me that I am a good person, I can only smile back and when Nooroo was about to levitate his way out, that’s when I remembered to ask him the questions that I should have been asking.

“Why do you do it?”

It was a question so familiar; I remembered that I dismissed it when someone asked.

“Kwamis are bound to the wielder. No matter how small for a god we are, we are merely under the words of men.”

Nooroo seemed like the tiniest sage, and I felt a sadness in every word. If there was someone who shouldn’t be doing terrible things, or shouldn’t feel terrible for doing it, it should be Nooroo.

“Why is he doing this? I don’t see the point.”

Nooroo locked those big doll-like eyes and for the first time, I think I’ve seen through someone. “I do. And it was all for love, as most things are,” Nooroo explained. “All of this is for trying to undo something that has been done.”

Nooroo was almost reluctant to say it, but he did anyway. “The miraculous of creation and destruction are already the strongest miraculous, even on their own. Imagine the weight of the power it can offer someone if they come together? It is a power so great, not a single man, nor kwami could tell.”

“What’s Emilie have to do with this?” I asked, though I initially thought of asking why she is here. “What is being undone here?”

“Her,” Nooroo answered and then our eyes locked. “Master is fixing something he’d done.” There was a pause in the air between us, but Nooroo must’ve seen my eagerness to hear more.

“If Master’s memory serves me right, Madame Agreste got carried away once. It happened a while ago and the butterfly and peacock miraculous were already in their possession. At times, they’d call us, Duusu and I.”

“‘_They’_?”

“Master. And Madame Agreste.”

My jaw lowered on its own. As soon as I pieced things together, I started imagining Emilie in a peacock-themed superhero costume. I’ve seen her before- in flesh and in photos.

“She was the peacock miraculous wielder,” I whispered.

“And Duusu was her bound kwami.”

“What does the miraculous look like?” I asked out of nowhere, then I tried to remember the details of the bumblebee comb.

“Both our miraculouses are brooches.”

I then started imagining what or how they’d look like, but Nooroo continued the exposition. “The peacock miraculous mainly utilizes emotions. That’s how Mayura creates sentimonsters, almost similar to Hawkmoth’s akumatization.”

As Nooroo was speaking, I wondered if the miraculous can only make monsters. What if they do not have to? Maybe they do not have to be monsters after all.

“Madame Emilie is a master in using emotions. Her emotions, mainly.”

_Of course she is_, I agreed silently. She was an actress. I then noticed that as Nooroo spoke each word, they became softer and the last ones only seemed like whispers. “She was a master of it and Master thought she could be the right person to wield it, but he was wrong. Madame Agreste wasn’t able to properly wield the peacock miraculous.”

Nooroo continued to tell the rest. Whenever Emilie was Mayura, she could sense others’ emotions as if it was a heightened sense. It was like hearing everybody’s thoughts simultaneously and she was not able to take it, but day by day; she tried to learn and harnessed whatever she could. Nooroo said that Gabriel was not even sure why, and only thought it was probably because of Emilie, as an actress, was often a vessel of various emotions that she subconsciously made herself as the vessel of many emotions whenever she was Mayura and she often failed to control them. “More like a conduit,” Nooroo added.

“What happened after that was terrible and Madame Agreste does not like it.” Nooroo continued. “Master kept the peacock miraculous away from her. He wanted her to stop, but she wanted to learn how to control it. Master said she was determined and stubborn. And master saw how she changed. How the miraculous changed her.”

“In what way?” I asked, and we both turned our gaze to Emilie’s coffin, and I realized that Nooroo was already telling me why she became like this.

“She has gotten too deep with the miraculous. She wanted more of it, even though she ended up getting hurt every time. She gave up acting. Solitude was her last movie. She was too focused on trying to get it right so she can use it for the greater good, but somehow, the emotions got the best of her and she was losing herself.”

There was a pause for a while.

“When master kept the miraculous away from her, she thought that she was up to no good but one night, Master found out that she was no longer in bed. He saw her in his atelier and she found the peacock miraculous behind the painting.”

Nooroo abruptly stopped, and I realized he just spilled something. I smiled at him and told him that his secret is safe with me.

“Madame Agreste had already used the peacock miraculous but the appearance of Mayura had changed,” Nooroo continued, “Her feathers were a lot darker than they used to. Master panicked, then he summoned me”.

“What happened?”

“Let’s just say that the Mayura you now know is the creator of sentimonsters, Madame Agreste in that moment was _the_ monster.”

I turned my gaze to Emilie’s coffin and stared at it. I am sure I trembled a bit. How can someone so kind and pure end up being a monster?

Nooroo further told me that she almost jeopardized her family’s safety. What happened was unexplainable but Nooroo thought there was a certain imbalance in the fusion of Emilie and Duusu and the fusion was further destroyed when Nooroo and Gabriel tried to remove it from the dark Mayura.

“We broke it during the process and since that miraculouses are the ones who balance the fusion of man and the divine, it was interrupted. It was destroyed. Something happened to both Duusu and Madame Agreste’s fusion, especially Madame Agreste. When they separated, both Dark Mayura and Madame Agreste were gone. Ladybug and Cat Noir’s miraculouses are perhaps Master’s only choice.”

We were both quiet for a moment, then Nooroo spotted the empty small glass he’d brought earlier, and then took it. 

“Emilie never woke up,” my voice was too weak and soft to break the silence.

“The miraculous was broken, and it broke some part of her too. Somehow, Master did terrible things just to fix this one mistake because he thought that he shouldn’t have given her the peacock miraculous in the first place.”

I then remembered the first time I met Pollen and how all of it was just an accident. I was never really meant to become a hero. Emilie has a better shot and heart to be one compared to me. If I haven’t found it, I’m not sure Ladybug would let me wield it either. What’s worse was the fact that I willingly did terrible things when I first turned as Queen Bee. I should be the one in the coffin, not her.

Nooroo and I just stared at Emilie’s coffin, and I began to wonder whether she can feel or hear anything. Can she smell the white roses that are being replaced every day? I take it back. Gabriel is not a psychopath. Maybe a little. He was just someone with a broken heart. Too broken.

“You can’t keep this as secret, right?” I asked. “Not from Gabriel.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean this. You are telling me some secrets.”

Nooroo just looked at me, and I know that he knows what I meant. If miraculous fusions merges the human mind with the kwami, then Gabriel will surely know that Nooroo shared some things with me, and the reason behind his wife’s fate was just the least of it.

“I have learned to keep some things from him,” he said with an assuring smile.

Nooroo finally bid me goodbye and flew his way out. I didn’t bother to watch him leave, instead; I leaned my head back to my arm and just thought of Gabriel and Emilie, and how Gabriel is ready to risk everything and anyone just so he can have her back. Somehow, I understood him, or so I thought. I did terrible things just so I could get my mother’s attention. I even almost destroyed the subway station.

I was back on stage, and I was dancing again in the chorus of Coppélia. Mom was sitting in the VIP seat, over fifteen feet away from me. She was smiling and her eyes showed how proud she was. I was dancing beautifully in the centre then I realized; it wasn’t Coppelia, it was Swan Lake and I am the white swan, or so I thought. I found myself on a tall riser. This has to be the fourth act where the prince and Odette kill themselves, but there was no prince. There was no Rothbart. I was alone. This was the part where the white swan jumps. I looked at mom again, and she was still smiling. She looked really happy and proud. I was too. In fact, I am overjoyed.

I jumped from the riser and I had a split second to realize that I wasn’t the Swan Queen because my costume was deep green, almost black. I jumped anyway, but there was no mattress. I hit no mattress. Instead; I felt a hand cover my mouth.

I jolted waking up and was greeted by the gentlest green eyes I know.

Adrien was shushing me. His face was so close to mine that I could smell both his breath and sweat. I can say he’d had a long day. His ring felt cold on my lips. After so many days of just seeing Gabriel, Nathalie, Emilie, and Nooroo’s face, I became happy. I am happier than I was in that dream.

Adrien removed his hand and I was instantly flooded with basorexia. Without really thinking, I pressed my lips on his, then slowly let go. I too was surprised I reached his.


	8. adrien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am feeling a bit agoraphobic, but let's just dive in to it.

chapter seven

adrien

Pure shock made his eyes a lot greener than it already was, and for a split second, I thought I’d sucked the life out of him after the quick kiss I stole. Frankly, he shouldn’t be surprised at all. This was just the first time that I’ve pulled it off.

“That’s for being the first person I see after being stuck here,” I blurted out quickly to apologize and stitch up whatever awkward tremor we have again. “That was really way out of character,” I added.

Adrien then let out a sigh and called for someone named Plagg. Then, a small and pitch-black creature with luminescent green eyes levitated towards the cuffs that have been having me bound. A kwami, I thought. Cat Noir’s kwami. If it wasn’t for its luminescent eyes, he would have been perfectly invisible as it blended with the darkness.

Plagg then softly blew on each cuff and Adrien was quick to catch them before throwing them in the waters below. I began to lightly scratch the red marks and skin folds on both my wrists as I thought of what to say to Adrien. I thought of ways to explain how his mother and father just happened to be the roots of all this miraculous stuff going on in Paris but when I looked up at him, he and Plagg were both silently staring down at the waters. They both looked like they were trying to figure out how deep it goes, but I know better. I know he was marvelling at the things that were happening. I know he is lost in all the truths he just unearthed.

“Adrien,” my voice was small and weak as I called him. “Trust me, this is-“

I was just starting to tell him that his father never meant to hurt anyone especially him, that all this was not what he thought it looked like, that his mother was alive and never meant to be missing in his life when he swiftly swooped me up as if I was a small child crying after tumbling down. He wasn’t even gentle about doing it. I even have to quickly hold on to him, not because I might fall, but because I felt like he would drop me down in the water anytime.

His jaw clenched tight and was breathing through his nose. Even Plagg now has a concerned and scared face when he looked at him, and that’s when I realized that I missed his smile. I missed his smile so much that I forgot the last time he genuinely smiled at me.

“She’s not dead,” I blurted before even thinking about it.

Adrien then turned to look at me, our faces just inches away. I then felt him taking in deep breaths before finally letting out a sigh. A sigh of relief, perhaps?

“I know,” he said as he turned to look at Emilie’s coffin. I did the same.

The glass lid was lying on the steel floor with the rest of the bouquet of withered white roses, and I could almost make out a vibrant blue on the back of Emilie’s hands. _Flowers_. _New flowers_. I was supposed to tell Adrien that he shouldn’t have opened it in case some mechanics in the casket and the lid were keeping her alive, but then Adrien was smart. He wouldn’t just kill his mom.

“I spotted that thing first the moment I came here,” he said, and I know he meant the casket. “It was dark, and I didn’t see you. I thought she was you, so I checked.”

How can he just stand here and carry me? He should be there with her. He should be crying but I don’t even have the strength to escape from his grasp.

“She is alive,” he continued, and the hesitation was apparent. “She is alive, but the flowers are dying. I thought my father never liked white roses.”

I’m at a loss for words. I know it’s really difficult for Adrien right now. He even paused once in a while, just so he could finish a whole sentence. I only looked at him, and that’s when I noticed the red under his eyes and nose. He had been crying. A lot. I can only imagine how it felt. At least my mom really gave me the closure that Emilie never did.

Adrien shifted. He has been carrying me in a sweetheart style and he has never moved an inch! This is such a waste of strength, not to mention time and when I was about to tell him to put me down, he started telling me how he asked Plagg to quickly find him some white roses and came back with a bunch of irises and small daisies, all of which have broken stems. I wanted to laugh, and by the looks of him, I can say that he wanted to.

“At least now there’s colour,” I said, then I noticed that everything about him became gentle, except for the way he held me. “Blue fits your mom,” I added and waited for him to put me down, which he didn’t, so I patted his back and told him to do so. He just looked at me confused, as if he did not understand what I meant.

“This is ridiculous. You have been carrying me like I’m a bride and you have made no displacement at all,” I said calmly, and I thought I just saw him smirk.

“Well, you’re the one in white.” He said, or teased?

This would’ve been funny if Paris weren’t having another _rain_ of terror, and for the ratty and tattered clothes that I have on since the past few days. I have lost count of the days already.

“Seriously. Put me down.”

It was no longer a request, but then Plagg reminded us that we needed to go and that we’ve been here long enough. But I’m pretty sure I am excluded. And now I know that all kwamis have shrill voices.

“It’s okay. I can walk,” I told him in an attempt to sound believable. Then I realized that I’d be throwing all his efforts in trying to carry me.

“You mean you can limp?” He asked just before he walked heading in the other direction; the place where I fell, where I had a meal just before turning into Morphosia.

I remember holding on to Adrien, but then everything seemed to disappear at the back of my mind when it dawned on me that I am finally getting out of here. Adrien finally put me down when we arrived on the opposite side of the bridge. He made me stand with all my weight settling on one foot and walked me towards a circular tile where we both stood on. I then studied the tile and I know, right above us is its twin.

“Careful right now, there are two of us here.”

Adrien’s gentle voice broke the silence. I then removed my eyes from studying the tile to ask him what he meant. He was actually looking down at our feet and that’s when I realized that he was talking to Plagg whom I just saw morph through the tile beneath us.

The moment the muffled metallic clicks sounded below, Adrien grabbed my waist and pulled me closer to him. Then the tile elevated. I can finally have my dose of sunlight or moonlight.

“That’s it. Easy,” he told Plagg, and then we easily and slowly made our way back up into the atelier and though I have had my fair share of being blinded by lights, I do not think I have ever been forced by indoor lights to close my eyes so hard.

I had to blink my eyes a few times to adjust. The atelier wasn’t as bright as it is now. I even thought I was already in paradise, but then I really was.

When the tile finally locked itself on the floor, I hurriedly stepped away from it to finally put myself away from the chances of coming back down there. I hustled myself away, and I tripped, and then plunged myself on the wall where the painting of Emilie hangs.

“Are you okay?” Adrien asked in a hushed voice, reminding me that it wasn’t safe yet. I nodded, understanding that we needed to be quiet. Adrien then scrambled towards the double door, opening it slowly and stuck his head out like what he did when we were playing hide and seek with Jean when we were little.

I gently scratched my eyes once more, and that’s when I noticed that the framed side of the painting was loose, like a door slightly left ajar. It was inviting me in so I slowly opened it and through the small opening; I saw another framed photo of Emilie, a tattered book, and a small purple and blue fan. Nooroo’s words immediately echoed in my mind: “_Both our miraculouses are brooches_.”

This has to be it. It was purple and fan-like that it looked like a peacock’s tail. It was the peacock miraculous. A foot away from my fingers was Mayura’s source of power, the main cause of all this. It doesn’t look broken.

I was supposed to take it just so I could touch it when Adrien suddenly and forcefully closed the lid, almost jamming my fingers between them.

“It’s time. We need to go,” he said when he finally turned his back on me.

I followed Adrien as if I was his tail or his shadow. And just like how he got me in days ago, he was finally sneaking me out. Only this time he was holding my hand tight.

Once the back of my feet felt the discomfort brought by the sudden change of temperature from cold marble floors to hot rough cement being fried by the afternoon sun, that’s just when I realized that I was actually barefoot. But I didn’t care. I then noticed that there was some purple discolouration on my ankle.

For the first time, none of my clothes or the state of my hair mattered. I even forgot where my cardigan was. All my thoughts were wrapped around the idea of getting through that gate, which I thought I wouldn’t be seeing soon, let alone now.

The moment we hustled ourselves through the gates, we immediately went to a halt when we noticed how quiet it was. It’s like Paris was now a ghost town. I can hear the soft wind brushing past my ears.

“Where is everyone?” I asked through a whisper, but Adrien dismissed the question and urged me to move. I then got a whiff of the familiar smell of smoke, and that was enough to explain things to me.

We were several blocks away from the mansion when Ladybug suddenly appeared right in front of us. I used to fangirl every time I saw her unless I needed saving, but right now, I just stood there speechless. Maybe it’s the guilt. Or maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t fully absorbed that she was also Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“Ladybug,” Adrien called, perhaps fighting his urge to call her his lady.

“Catalyst is back, and so is Scarlet Moth,” Ladybug said calmly. She has always been grace under pressure, but something seemed to be awry here. “We have led everyone into hiding.”

There was a short pause, then Adrien looked at me. Things were about to get worse and I know that he had to save the day with Marinette. He had to save his dad.

“Would you mind finding Chloé a place to hide LB?” Adrien asked, as he turned his back on me and let go of my hand.

“I would gladly find both of you a place to hide. Now come with me.”

Ladybug was just about to run when Adrien ran back in the opposite direction.

“Adrien!” She called after him, her voice bellowing in the empty street. “Where are you going? It’s not safe!”

“Come back!” She called once more. “What are you up to?”

“To talk to my father!” Adrien shouted back, and I knew what he meant. He then shouted a few more words like he was trying to conjure something and for the first time, I saw him transform into Cat Noir then watched him disappear behind the roofs of nearby buildings. It’s like watching Cat Noir in action for the very first time.

“Gabriel is going to be so mad,” Ladybug said, but there was something about the way it sounded.

I turned to look at her and realized something was different. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t looked closely at Ladybug for so long since I moved to New York.

“And I guess Adrien found out,” she added, now smirking at me with those bluebell eyes still locked on mine. I did the same with her, and that’s where I saw it.

I don’t understand how Adrien being Cat Noir wasn’t able to spot that something was off with this Ladybug. How can he not see that something was wrong considering the fact that they see each other? Both in hero and civilian form... How can he not see that Ladybug’s hair should be a lot longer since that Marinette’s were? This was wrong. Just when I thought things were about to get worse, they already had.

I took a step back, my eyes still locked on hers. She was still smirking, and I can tell that she was somehow glad to see me. That’s funny. Ladybug was never really fond of seeing me.

“Hello Chloé,” she said flatly, failing to conceal the sinister that lurked behind those words. She then took a step closer to me so I stepped back, keeping the distance between us. My mouth and throat were both starting to get dry.

“Lila,” I whispered, my heart finally starting to skip beats. She froze for a bit and broke out laughing. I braced myself to run if I got it right and apologize if it turns out that Ladybug just learned to be a bit sarcastic and decided to cut her hair at the last minute.

“How did you know?” She asked, really eager to hear my answer.

“I just did,” I answered with my voice breaking. Lies, illusions and playing pretend has always been Lila’s bailiwick.

“Well, how couldn’t you? I mean, after being Morphosia...” she paused and transformed into what I think Morphosia looked like. What I looked like. I can actually recall and confirm it. This was like finally meeting my psychotic doppelganger.

Lila looked like the akumatized versions of me and my mom, then she transformed into something new. It wasn’t a combination of any super villains I know. “But I am better. Stronger even,” she taunted with a smile. “You can call me Metamorphosia,” she added, emphasizing the prefix. “Gabriel sent me to check on you.”

“Here I am,” I said without choking.

“To tell you the truth, I was pretty bummed. I’m missing the party out there just to check on some socialite’s brat.”

She crossed her arms, waiting for me to say something, and I thought I just swallowed my tongue. I’m sure I’ve heard worse, but something about her words and tone hit me. Lila must have noticed I was quiet for too long, so she asked me if I had any idea on what’s about to happen. She even said my name properly when she asked, and I can feel my blood flushing even in the tip of my ears.

“What?”

“Well, it’s really going to be huge fun. Gabriel had already akumatized Carapace and he’ll be putting all of Paris in lockdown and-“

Just exactly right after she said it, it happened. An akumatized Carapace was flying, towering almost every structure with another villain with black and red wings. There was something familiar about the other villain, but I decided not to think about it.

Carapace tossed his turtle shield up in the sky, activating it, creating a dome-like force field that now kept Paris in. Kept all of us in.

“And voila!” Lila exclaimed, admiring the spectacle. Paris in lockdown is a masterpiece for this Metamorphosia. “And then there will be no escape for everyone.”

There was silence between us, and only the sound of my pounding heart was able to fill the gap. I was about to take it as a chance to run for it when she turned to me.

“After that, Gabriel and I, together with Nathalie and the rest of Ladybug’s gang who are all akumatized to their cores...”

I couldn’t believe she was calling him on a first-name basis. I found it really uncomfortable. Then the panic kicked in. Adrien and Marinette won’t be able to take them down without backups. I know this has happened before, but this is worse. Way worse!

“Yes. I made sure of it. It was a piece of cake,” she bragged. “Only Ladybug and Cat Noir stand. And for a time before, I thought, Chloé Bourgeois will stand with us when this time comes. But here you are.”

I heard a paper cup roll on the street and then my stomach grumbled, then suddenly I felt like vomiting. Fortunately, Lila looked up and admire the dome once again, so I took that chance to run.

Adrenaline overtook, but I was still limping. My feet were making annoying sounds. My breathing was an annoying sound. I don’t know, and somehow I don’t care which way I took. All I ever wanted was to run far from that Italian girl. I thought I was doing great, but then I heard Lila speak loudly. I haven’t gotten far yet. Somehow I know that it was impossible to outrun her especially with my situation but I never stopped.

“You know you’re not running, right?”

_Save it_, I thought, but I was too shaken with panic. Instead, I kept doing what I was doing and when I saw the gates of the Agreste mansion; I found out that I just stupidly turned around. I fastened my pace, disregarding the pain.

“You look ridiculous!” Lila shouted again. She was still close. Or was she just following me? “Utterly ridiculous!”

She laughed so hard after that impression, and I felt like vomiting again. Nothing is really more humiliating when someone uses your words against you. Literally. I kept it together and run faster. I was about to pass by the gate when the cobblestones turned into smooth ice. Icy pins and needles sent a jolt and caused me to trip once again. I tumbled and rolled, and I can clearly hear Lila laugh. She was enjoying this. Who wouldn’t?

I quickly and painfully put myself up, making me stand exactly at the front of the gate. Lila was making her way towards me and at that moment, I thought my heart was going to explode.

“That was so painful to watch,” she said, transforming back to Metamorphosia. She almost sounded muffled. “Don’t get me wrong. I hate it too. This is totally a mismatch. I mean, you already look terrible,” she continued to mock as I leaned on the gate and tried to even my breathing. Useless! All I did was useless!

“You just flushed all your efforts down the drain,” she said as if she were reading my mind. I looked at her, and she was thoroughly unimpressed, almost disgusted.

“Oh my. You are nothing right now!”

I just leaned in silence, letting fear, pain, and humiliation take over.

“What are you going to do? Mommy and Daddy can’t be here anymore. In fact, they never have been. Right?” Lila made a face, pretending that she was genuinely sorry and to tell the truth, I felt like crying at the moment. But I didn’t. I looked her in the eyes, trying to look tenacious. She then closed the distance between us, and I trembled.

“I’m going to go, okay?” She said softly. “Useless brats like you don’t have a place anywhere. Look where you are now, Queen Bee.”

“I’m right here. And you’re watching out for me. Like a nanny,” I said, not yet throwing the towel even though I am already out of breath. “Why don’t you put that in your diary?”

Her expressions changed. I know I made her mad. And I know I made my situation even worse. Lila was quiet for a second before she decided to slap the life out of me. It stung. I know she had wanted to do that, and no powers of Metamorphosia could help her find that kind of satisfaction.

There was pain everywhere, but I couldn’t afford to back down. But before I even knew it, I was already throwing a punch at her face. I think I just broke my hand.

“You’re so pathetic,” she does not seem to look like she was in pain. “Do you have any idea what you’re up against?”

I took a step back, but deep inside, my denying heart continued to pretend that I can still outrun her.

“I am Metamorphosia. My powers are way beyond everything you have ever had. I am a super villain. I. Have. Power.”

“And I’m a bourgeois.”

The rest after that turned to pitch black for seconds. I don’t know what happened, but based on the fact that I was kneeling, trembling and bleeding, I know she hit me well.

Lila was looking down at me, and I braced myself for whatever it is she will do. “Such a pity,” she said and walked away.

“I’ll tell Gabriel you’ve been dealt with. Just right after Ladybug and Cat Noir hand over their miraculouses. Or maybe when everyone hands over _their_ miraculouses.”

She gave me one sinister smile before transforming into what I looked like when I was Queen Bee. “Arrivederci,” she waved just before releasing the spinning top and buzzing off into the streets.

I no longer knew which part of me is in pain. I never even knew that pain could be so vague. I tried to stand, but all I could do is put myself up to sit and lean by the gate. My top has greyed and is now sticking like it was a second skin and blood had dried from my right temple down to the lower part of my clavicle. It was just me and my breathing right now, and it was painfully silent. I want to cry. Somehow I think that I am responsible for all of this. If only I hadn’t morphed into Emilie, then everything might have been different. Everything might have been less chaotic.

I was starting to miss New York, and the squeaking sounds of shoes in the studio when I heard a loud boom in the distance. Adrien and Marinette came into my mind. They can’t do this. They are outnumbered. It’s two against thousands and Gabriel will surely do everything just to take it from them and he will take it by force. There is no stopping him now. But why can’t he just ask? Why can’t he just tell the truth, then all this would be over and no one has to get hurt? Then it’s at this point when I realized. He can’t say it. There is no way that Gabriel will say it, especially now that Cat Noir is Adrien. He will never say it because he believes that he was responsible for what happened to his wife. No father will easily say to his son that he is the reason why his mother is no longer in their life. But she is not gone. Not at all. And somehow, deep inside my hollowness, I know that there is only one person who can put an end to all of this.

I know this was such a stupid idea, but my feet were already on their way back to the mansion. I am once again dodging the bullets. I took comfort in the coldness of the marble floors as I loosely limped my way back into the atelier. I never even tried to keep an eye on Adrien’s bodyguard. Something tells me that he wasn’t even here, but that never stopped me from locking the doors as soon as I got in. Maybe Lila and Gabriel really had everyone hiding. Or locked up.

I then headed straight towards the painting and opened it. No one is stopping me now. I was trembling. I’m not even sure if this will work, but I took the fan-shaped brooch and pinned it on my dirty top, failing to take a closer look at it. Once I had it in place, a purplish kwami conjured right in front of me. I wasn’t surprised. I now have a general idea that kwamis only appear when their miraculous is being acknowledged.

“Oh Miss Nathalie, I thought we are not going to do this anymore-”

The kwami stopped in surprise. Its voice was shrill like the others I heard but this one has a bit of femininity to it though it bears a peacock's tail.

“You’re not Miss Nathalie.”

“No.”

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Duusu.”

From the way she sounded, I was pretty sure that this one is a female.

“What can I do for you?” Duusu asked.

“We need to talk to Emilie,” I said, as I hurriedly closed the painting and fumbled for the secret buttons on the canvas that will bring me back down to the secret garden.

“But she is-”

“Not dead.”

I really didn’t mean to be dismissive. I just took a wrong turn trying to convince Duusu as I grazed the part of the painting where I believe the secret buttons are hidden. Panic was slowly taking over me.

“I think we can still reach out to her. Through you,” I said between soft grunts, then finally, I found them. I immediately pressed them simultaneously and quickly headed straight to the circular tile. “We need her help to stop all of this,” I added but Duusu has no idea of what I was talking about.

_If we can_, I thought, and then the tile descended, bringing me back to the dark and florid place. Clearly, this was the last place I wanted to be, but I don’t think I have much of a choice right now.

The sweet smell of white roses greeted me again, and I convinced myself to consider it as a good sign. Duusu and I then made our way into Emilie’s coffin. The irises and daisies were exactly where Adrien left them. They were the only colour of life down here. The silence here was different, and Duusu broke it.

“I don’t think you have the heart to take it.”

It almost sounded mocking, but when I turned to look at Duusu, I realized that it was a genuine concern.

“It’s not just my heart that is at stake right now,” I said, though it mostly sounded like a whisper. I then carried on limping towards Emilie. I can feel Duusu trailing behind my shoulder.

“And let’s just say that I don’t have a heart,” I added. I believe someone told me that before, I just can’t remember who exactly.

The moment we arrived at the foot of Emilie’s casket, Duusu and I took a closer look. She seems to have such a deep and peaceful sleep.

“Emilie,” I called softly in a wishful attempt to wake her up, but nothing happened. It tried to call her again, but louder, still it didn’t work.

“Auntie,” I hope she can tell that I am desperate. She asked me to call her that when Adrien and I were still in nursery school. “We need your help. Adrien needs you. Please.”

I waited for a little in case she’ll wake up and then there will be no need to use this brooch. I waited, but still, nothing happened. I know a classic fairy tale kiss wouldn’t help, but I immediately shook the thought away when it dawned on me that I really have to do it. “What’s the magic word Duusu?”

It took a little longer for Duusu to answer. I know this kwami is just as scared as I am, but this is beyond us. Somehow, at this point, I think I’m no longer scared anymore.

“You can lose yourself.”

Duusu’s voice was broken when they came out as a whisper. “You might even end up like her. You can lose your life.”

I slowly turned to look at those winged eyes. The kwamis’ anatomy is really weird, but in a good way. It was a real wonder.

“Don’t worry,” I said, returning my eyes to Emilie. “I lost it a long time ago. And no one has to right now.”

I heard myself letting out one deep sigh before asking Duusu again for the set of words which she never gave. We are losing time and only stars know what’s happening to them up there.

“Duusu!” I yelled, my voice echoing in this clandestine place. “Just do it!”

Duusu still uttered nothing and just closed those winged eyes. I pleaded. I cried. And then Duusu levitated towards me, and then all I saw was a blinding white.

The blindness just lasted for a split second and the next thing I know, Duusu was gone. I primarily thought the purplish kwami bailed until I sensed that something was different. I felt different. There was no ankle pain, no pain in the knuckle, no ringing in the head. As soon as I looked down to check my ankle, I saw that I was wearing iridescent pointe shoes where purple, blue, and green were each fighting for their own dominance- lustrous amalgamation. Then I noticed that I was wearing a skirt made of peacock feathers.

I cannot believe it myself, so I checked my reflection on the glass lid that Adrien had laid down on the floor moments ago. There, I found out I was wearing something similar to a typical tutu, only that this one seemed to imitate peacocks. Purple tulle covered my face and peacock feathers were placed on the top of my head in a very intricate manner. It almost reminded me of the black swan costume in Swan Lake if it weren’t for the peacock feathers. I was supposed to turn back to Emilie when I noticed that my eyes were no longer the colour of the ocean. They are almost magenta. It worked. Now I am Mayura.

I then went back to Emilie and as if driven by pure instinct, I plucked a small feather from the adornments in my head. It was light, soft, and in a deep purple colour. I held it between two fingers, careful not to drop it as I thought of what to do next. My fingers trembled and then I looked at Emilie once again, like I was asking for her consent that will never come.

Finally, I let out a deep breath and laid the purple feather on the flowers that Plagg and Adrien had replaced. It then slowly phased through them and just vanished into thin air. I waited for something to happen and when I was about to panic, thinking it did not work, everything started to glitch.

It’s like I was watching a glitching or broken montage of a film, only that I seem to be inside the film. The vibrant colours were killing my eyes and at some point, I thought I saw familiar faces and places among the glitching images. I tried to stand still, wondering when this would stop when the image of Pont de la Concorde formed. Then the air became colder, and I sensed the presence of water, and then I realized that I wasn’t just seeing a realistic image of Pont de la Concorde. I was in Pont de la Concorde.

I had no idea on what’s happening. I might have done something wrong, but I must be inside Emilie’s mind because I certainly have no regard for this place at all. I started to walk on the bridge as I tried to look for answers. And for Emilie. I then found out that I was walking perfectly well. There isn’t even a snitch of pain. Even the bruises are gone and then I realized how much I missed this that I even put them on pointe and even tried to do sets of chaînés.

When I was in the middle of doing the turns, I spotted something golden up ahead. I halted, and then my heart raced with my feet. I was sprinting towards the figure and not a moment longer; I knew it was Emilie. Those were Adrien’s blonder hair, and that long dress was the exact colour of Duusu. I slowed down when I noticed that her green eyes were solidly drifting in the distance. It’s almost like she was waiting for me. I walked to her side, and somehow, I was scared again.

“Not all of it,” she said, and I stupidly asked what she meant though I already know.

“Solitude,” she answered. Her voice was warm and calm. I can see the sadness and bliss that came with it. “Not all solitudes are beautiful. Trust me. Some are just dreadfully painful.”

“I understand,” I said, then she looked at me. A small smile was forming. Adrien really is the spitting image of his mother. They really are alike, even in their gentleness.

“You look lovely, my dear,” she was finally talking to me.

“You know who I am?” I asked.

“Yes Chloé, I know you,” her voice echoed inside my head though I’m sure that her lips moved. Maybe this is what Nooroo meant. She can get into someone else’s mind.

“We need your help,” I said, cutting to the chase, then her smile faded. “And I am not asking you.”

“I know. But what do you think I can do, Chloé?”

She looked hopeless. She was hopeless. I can actually feel it, and most of all, I know why. She and Gabriel blame themselves for the fate of the other. Emilie blames herself for being weak, for not being good enough, for not being there for her son and it was terrible sharing the same emotion or having a glimpse of her memories.

Tears were welling up in her eyes, and so did mine.

“What every mother can do just so they could save their child,” I answered. “Adrien needs you. Gabriel needs you. He’d blamed himself for so long. For so much. He needs to know it is not his fault.” I wanted every word of mine to pierce through her. “He needs to know that from you.”

I was starting to feel hot, as if the temperature was rising. Emilie never looked away. She was silently crying, and somehow, I did too.

“And it’s not your fault,” I whispered, sure enough, that she can read my mind. “We can fix this mess.”

Emilie sighed, and I thought about how much time I still have. I thought of Adrien and Marinette up there and silently asked for them to hold on a bit longer.

“I really thought I could do it,” she breathed. “I really thought I could take it. And Gabriel was right. But I never listened, and it got the best of me. I drifted apart, and away. I thought I could wield it.” She was trying to confess the things she’d kept locked up with her here.

“And then I broke it. And I broke my husband’s heart,” she paused. “I broke Adrien’s heart.”

“What do you want to do?” I asked gently, but she gave me no answer.

“You know sulking in here won’t help you. Trust me, I’ve been there. _Still there_. But I want to help. I want to fix this. And not just because I’m tired of all these-” I stopped and swallowed. “Others are hurting. I want to fix this for others’ sake,” I continued as I held her hand and everything felt lighter. “Blaming yourself won’t take you anywhere. It’s what you do after that that matters,” I continued almost feeling like a hypocrite, and I can feel that things will finally turn around.

Emilie stood and fixed her clothes as if she was off for a photo op before finally facing me with intent green eyes. The sun was rising in Pont de la Concorde.

“What sentient being are you going to create with flowers?” she asked worriedly. I told her that I don’t know, but it doesn’t have to be a monster. 


	9. la tour eiffel

chapter eight

la tour eiffel

It’s as if the mist was finally lifted. One moment I was on a bridge overlooking the Seine, and now I am being welcomed by a grand view of cloudless blue. The whole transition was so surreal that I thought my mind stopped working for a second. I would compare it to the feeling of getting through a rainbow strip, but how should I know? Then things started to feel real enough.

I looked for Emilie but she was nowhere to be found yet I can feel her. I can feel her presence everywhere and when I started glancing around, that’s when I realized that I was up in the air, floating. I then had the feeling that I was never really here, physically. Like I was a wandering soul, or a floating astral being, almost ominous. The dome-like force field towered just a few feet over me, and there were petals and flowers suspended in the air near me. There are ones that I can’t even name. I spotted several blue irises and then deep inside me; I know they have parts of Emilie with them. After all, I put the feather unto the irises.

I stared at the petals and flowers for a moment, but something suddenly woke me from my reverie. That’s when I sensed great tension ahead, and I immediately went to look for it. It didn’t even take me long to find it. Maybe transforming into Mayura includes a package that gives heightened senses to its wielder. It was like having the senses of a falcon.

After falling right into his secret garden where he kept Emilie, I knew that Gabriel has a great amount of dramatic flair in him. I just never thought he’d still be one even in this hour by choosing the top of the Eiffel tower as the _mise-en-scènes_. I went closer to it though I really do not understand how I managed to do so, but the movement was slow.

Then I saw Cat Noir down on his knees with Ladybug trying to help him up. I hope I wasn’t too late, but seeing the akumatized heroes surrounding them like pillars in a pavilion, I feared I was. Lila was there too, and at that moment, I stole a quick glance at the new Queen Bee, and there she was. She may be the new Queen Bee, but this wasn’t the first time I saw her. I know of only one person who has that kind of red hair. Sabrina. No wonder she never called me, but then I immediately pushed the thought away and focused on what’s happening at the moment. Or what is likely to happen any moment now.

Cat Noir detransformed and Ladybug was trying her hardest to hide the shock. I can only imagine the feeling of finding out that the one you rejected was half of the person you wanted. She then called him by his name, but Adrien was quiet. Somehow, he paid no mind to the fact that he had just exposed his secret identity. But then, there are only three conscious minds present in the vicinity, not including the two of them. I was getting closer and closer, then Adrien’s scream put me to a halt.

“Father stop!” Adrien yelled, calling Scarlet Moth. Begging him.

“I’ve always guessed that it could be you,” Scarlet Moth said. There was anger in his reply. But Adrien doesn’t seem to be bothered by it.

“You don’t have to do this, father,” Adrien begged again. His voice was shaking and I know he was afraid. Really afraid. “Just-“

“Give me your ring, son.”

There was a pause, and I heard Adrien taking deep breaths so I tried to get closer given that my newfound senses only allows me to hear and see those that are afar and does not really give me the speed of light which is the one thing that I really needed at the moment.

Adrien had his eyes fixed on his father’s and Scarlet Moth did the same.

“This is not about you, son,” Scarlet Moth continued as he extended his hand for Adrien. “What I am doing is for something greater than you and I.”

_Someone_, I thought. It has always been for someone. Someone you love.

“We will never give you anything,” Ladybug sternly said, cutting off the short back and forth between father and son.

“I’m sorry Mr. Agreste,” Ladybug added and then her voice bellowed as she threw her yoyo up, summoning for a lucky charm. She was asking for a saving grace and I saw Lila and Scarlet Moth grimacing at her gesture, although I’m still far away, and I think I know why.

I know Ladybug was desperate but one lucky charm cannot defeat these akumatized heroes, not to mention that there are still three main villains standing for the day, plus the fact that there isn’t just one akuma. She has crossed the point of no return and all that she has now is Cat Noir in his civilian form, and a lucky charm which appeared to be a couple of yellow daffodils.

The sight of the lucky charm petrified Ladybug. I was too. For starters, they were yellow and I know for a fact that they should be in a red and black polka dot theme.

I was too distracted by the lucky charm that I almost forgot about Gabriel.

“Prepare to fire!” Gabriel ordered, and it was his yell, piercing through my ears that brought me back to present.

All the akumatized heroes started making ready to fire at Adrien and Ladybug, following him. Lila joined them and I can almost see her growing grin and it was scarier than Gabriel’s. She was really enjoying this, and after what happened earlier, I panicked.

“No!” I yelled, though I know that no one can hear me from where I physically am. I know Lila has been waiting for this moment to happen.

“Burn them!” Gabriel called.

“Are you crazy?” Ladybug shouted back at him, her voice shaking as she looked at Gabriel and then to the akumatized heroes that had them surrounded. “Are you really going to burn your son?”

“I am sure your little flowers can save him,” Gabriel replied, almost emotionless.

“Father!” Adrien called, more scared and desperate than ever but every hero was already powering up their guns, blasters, plasma blasts, and other weapons, ready to shoot him and Ladybug any moment from now.

I panicked and quickened my pace. I then heard Adrien saying that they’d already used up all the treats and power-up foods that could help their kwamis gain their energy. I know it was bad as I remembered Pollen asking for a brioche after I detransformed once.

I was close now but not enough and that’s when I heard beeps from Ladybug’s miraculous and it was a signal, telling her she doesn’t have much time before detransforming. Hold on, I asked her silently and told myself to hurry, but Gabriel was already smiling, almost like a joker clown.

“Fire,” he ordered, and Ladybug immediately knelt over Adrien, covering him and protecting him with her body.

_Help them, Chloé!_

Emilie’s hysteric call echoed in my head, but she does not have to. Right before I even thought about what I wanted to do, a horde of flowers and petals came rushing towards the akumatized heroes at such a ferocious speed, as if caught in a violent whirlwind. When I finally saw what it did, I never thought something so beautiful and delicate can be so deadly.

All the akumatized heroes including Lila fell on their knees right after being hit, and then red butterflies phased out of their bodies and fluttered away. They were then back to their usual self, only a bit stupefied- except for Lila. The dome-like force field vanished, and even Catalyst and Gabriel seemed to be stunned on what happened. They weren’t expecting such flowery intervention.

Petals and flowers hung in the air like how suspended confetti would when time stops. Everyone, except for Lila, was in awe with the sight of it. Even my jaw dropped.

Finally, all the akumatized heroes turned to Ladybug and Adrien, and were stunned for the second time by their new discovery. Then Lila Rossi started asking who was responsible, but everyone was asking the same question. I know it was me. Partly.

When nobody offered any explanation, Lila let out an angry yelp and started shouting that she’d burn all the suspended petals and flowers. She was about to set one on fire with her newly formed powers, her hands burned like dim embers and then all of the suspended petals moved and gathered together, spinning and moving towards her at a very rough speed.

The vortex or flowers threw her down on the steel floor, maiming her, and before she succumbed into unconsciousness, I heard her speak Gabriel’s name, unless my heightened hearing proves me otherwise.

What surprised me most is the fact that I don’t quite feel guilty or responsible for what happened. I don’t even think I was the only one doing it. It’s just that when I thought of it, it happens immediately like a wish being granted on the spot, or a whim being done with such finesse. It happened again when I looked at Catalyst and thought of doing the same thing to her, then all the petals and flowers made it happen. A purple akuma fluttered away from inside of her, and Nathalie was left in an exact state as Lila.

Gabriel’s face made him look like someone who had been caught trying to steal sweets from the Christmas cupboard, or so I remember. I wanted to take such an opportune moment to maim him, then the petals and flowers gathered like a ball, ready to strike him and put an end to all of this when Emilie’s voice cut me off from whatever I was doing.

“Let me handle this,” her buttery voice melted in my mind. I nodded, though I know that she cannot see me.

I let the florid fury that I was about to unleash at Gabriel calm down and fall on the floor, then Gabriel looked at the now scattered petals, puzzled. “Who are you?” he asked, and I am not sure if it is confusion or fear that I sensed in him. “Where are you?”

I looked straight at him, knowing that he cannot see me. There has always been something about seeing someone unguarded, and I know I have to give him the very thing that got him here.

I took one deep breath and started gathering- summoning, for all the flowers and petals, both fallen and not from all over Paris, to come and join the horde. And they did.

The rest of the heroes helped Ladybug and Adrien, and then they all stopped when they saw something moving- fluttering in the air. At a distance, they might have looked like vibrant akumas but I knew they were flowers and petals being blown by the wind. They are coming to help me.

I never really paid attention to any art classes I have taken, but I know that what I was doing now is closer to making a mosaic than flower arranging. Bells of Ireland for the eyes, cherry blossoms for the lips, and almost everything for the rest. I saved all the yellow ones for the hair, and at that point, I took it all back. I may be right about Ladybug, but I was wrong about her lucky charm. Ladybug’s lucky charm has never been wrong. It will never be wrong, especially now that I know what those yellow daffodils are meant for.

I lifted the daffodils from Ladybug’s hand, and she let me. The daffodils joined and nestled themselves in the part where I wanted them to be just before Ladybug finally detransformed. Her daffodils remained, though, and that fact brought me a cosy feeling.

She turned out strange, yet whimsical. Visceral, but at the same time ethereal. Almost like a childhood fairy-fantasy-come-true. She’s peculiar, but at the same time, beautiful. Really beautiful. She has a certain flare of _je ne sais quoi_.

I can only imagine Gustav Klimt turning on his grave because what I did was a lot better than his two-dimensional creations. This was real. She was real, solid, and alive. She was a living piece of art and if I were really an artist, she would have been called _Reine de Fleurs_\- the woman brought to life by flowers.

“Gabriel.”

Emilie’s voice came out from the lips shaped by cherry blossom petals.

_Indeed, she was_, I thought.

“Emilie,” Gabriel’s voice was soft, it almost sounded like a whisper. I knew he would recognize this image of hers. “Who is doing this?”

Emilie didn’t answer, so he asked again. This time frustration and desperation was apparent in his tone. “What are you?”

“The Flower Queen,” she answered. I almost forgot that our minds are connected. “The woman brought to life by flowers.”

There was a pause between them, and then I telepathically heard Emilie summoning a bunch of withered white roses, creating a bouquet out of it and suspending it in the space between them. It was the roses that Gabriel had placed on her hands a few days ago.

“All flowers,” she added. I can feel her. I smiled too and telepathically remarked about her move. It was like talking to my conscience.

“How is this happening?” Gabriel asked as he took a few steps back, recognizing the bouquet. I can feel him being in the middle of denial.

“Stop this now,” she replied, not answering his question. “It doesn’t have to end this way.”

I can feel Emilie’s sincerity in those words, but Gabriel just looked up and scoffed before starting to have a small mocking laugh.

“It’s Chloé isn’t it?” He said and then clenched his jaw. His knuckles turned white as he looked at the unconscious body of Lila. “Pathetic,” he added and turned his gaze towards the dryad-like Emilie in front of him.

“Chloé did what was right!” Emilie yelled at him.

“Chloé is a foolish girl!” Gabriel yelled back.

“She did what was right!”

“Perhaps,” he answered, no longer yelling. “But she will die.”

The moment he let go of those words, I remembered Duusu’s warning and how she warned me. The words echoed in my head. “_I don’t think you have the heart to take _it.” “_You can lose your life_.”

But somehow, I don’t feel even a hint of worry.

“What she did was the one thing we both failed to do,” Emilie countered, disregarding everything that Gabriel said.

“Which is what, darling?”

Emilie paused, but then I knew what she wanted to say.

“Accepting the fact that I am not meant to wield it,” she said softly, almost like a whisper. “That I don’t have the heart for it.”

_And I didn’t have the heart to do what was right_, her voice echoed in my mind.

What she was saying wasn’t just an answer to Gabriel’s question, she was trying to make a confession, and what she wants to do is redemption.

I told her telepathically that I don’t blame her. I then told her it was nobody’s fault and that I don’t blame anyone. I am the only here who’s got the word ‘blame’ hidden between names, but somehow, it felt nice having someone standing up for you.

“And you shouldn’t have blamed yourself for what happened,” she told Gabriel as she looked at him endearingly and apologetically.

_You shouldn’t blame yourself_, her voice echoed again. She was talking to me.

“I know you did it for me but you shouldn’t have done things like this. No,” she added to him. “You should’ve just asked.”

“You were almost mad!” Gabriel bellowed. “And you disappeared!”

Guilt overwhelmed after he yelled those words, but I know that they weren’t really mine.

“You left me,” Gabriel’s words sound broken. “You chose to leave me. And your son.”

“_Our_ son,” she replied. “And no, I never left any of you. I never did.”

Emilie then turned to look at Adrien, who was still on his knees, with one arm trying to cover the side of his stomach.

“I never would,” she told Adrien, then Adrien called her and she then gave him a small and soft smile. Adrien wasn’t able to return the gesture, but I can see that he was more than blissful deep inside.

She then turned to face Gabriel again, and that’s the point where I realized how beautiful and delicate the flowers are as they match and follow her movements even though she’s under pressure. They were like a billowy dress made of wonderful floral and curlicue patterns. A piece in an avant-garde spring fashion show, I thought.

Emilie took a step closer to Gabriel. “Put an end to this. There is another way.” She returned to Gabriel.

“No,” he replied. “I’ve come this far. I am this close. I will not just throw everything away. And I do not wish to speak to a flower nymph for the rest of my life.”

“Have you only been thinking about yourself?”

Emilie’s question had Gabriel at a loss for words. I felt that she was about to cry, so I told her not to.

“The thought of seeing you again was the only thing that kept me from letting go,” she said and Gabriel listened. This was a conversation meant for just the two of them so I tried to give her room even though I know it was impossible. “And if it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation, this would have been a really great time,” she added, but Gabriel didn’t even flinch.

“If you leave me with my plan, that wish will come true, darling,” he replied, then walked towards Marinette and Adrien.

All the heroes tried to stand guard, protecting Marinette and Adrien. But Gabriel doesn’t seem to be bothered by the odds of the ratio.

“If you try to lay a hand on them, you leave me no choice,” Emilie warned, and then Gabriel slowly turned to look back at her as if piqued by her choice of words.

“You’re the one who left me no choice a long time ago,” he answered and when he was about to raise his cane, red roses and irises rose from Emilie’s dress and flew into his direction as if caught in a blast of whirling wind.

The vortex of roses and irises sent Gabriel a few feet away from where he stood, and it took him a moment to pull himself up. Everyone has always underestimated the power of flowers, but Gabriel still won’t budge. He tried to come at Adrien and Marinette one more time, but Emilie tossed him again. This time, it took him longer to pull himself up that he had to use the cane to do it.

“I’m warning you for the second time Gabriel,” Emilie hissed, and this shared fury between us made me clench my jaw. “End this right now or things won’t be easy for you. You claim that you’re doing this for me, for us, for Adrien, but you have gone too far. You’ve hurt people, Gabriel! You’ve hurt our son! I do not wish to come back if this is what I’m getting. I’d rather be trapped forever than be alive again because of the souls you’ve corrupted and broken.”

Gabriel was grunting with the pain and right now he has no one to akumatize. In chess, this should be the part where we can almost say ‘checkmate’ but Gabriel was still so determined despite the fact that the probability of him winning was close to none. He then started sprinting with all his might towards the two heroes and for a split second, Nooroo’s words instantly reverberated inside my head. Nooroo’s words continued to echo until I spotted the familiar design etched on Gabriel’s collar._ Brooch._

I knew it was the one. It has the same design engraved on the tile floors in his atelier and in the secret garden. It has a similar curve and lining pattern to the design on the grand windows in his underground lair. That right there was Hawkmoth’s miraculous- Gabriel’s source of power and before I could even tell Emilie of my ‘idea’, the flowers and petals that used to offer her physical form dispersed. She was already aiming them towards Gabriel.

Despite being formless, Emilie was still able to pin Gabriel to the steel floor. I can see and feel Gabriel struggling in trying to escape the horde of flowers, but all his strength won’t be able to save him now. It took a few moments before the turbulent petals finally calmed down and formed back to Emilie.

When everything at last cleared off, Gabriel was left on his hands and knees. Just Gabriel, not Hawkmoth. Just plain old Gabriel Agreste.

Emilie then stood right in front of him, one hand balled into a fist, but I know that she has no intention of hitting him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to him softly. He did not bother to look at her, so Emilie turned her back at him and slowly made her way towards Marinette and Adrien. When Adrien finally noticed that Emilie’s flower figure was making its way towards him, he stood up, ignoring the pain that came with his sudden movements. The others just looked at him and his mother, and I am sure they were all in awe. Why wouldn’t they be? Reine de Fleur was a masterpiece… a masterpiece so grand it must have not been created.

I know Adrien was desperate to hold his mother and I know Emilie does too, but she turned away from him and headed towards Marinette. She then took her hand and gently nestled a small and purplish brooch the size of a button on her open hand. It was Hawkmoth’s miraculous.

“Take care of it,” she told her and Marinette can only nod. She was at a loss for words. It’s not every day you get to see and talk to the famous actress and wife of the iconic fashion designer, who wasn’t so iconic after all.

Emilie then smiled at her and returned to Adrien. Right now, it was Emilie who was at a loss for words. She gave him an endearing smile, and I don’t think I’ve seen a smile like that before. It was that kind of smile that was just so warm; it reminded me of being cosy with hot chocolate during a rainy day.

She touched his cheek and I can really feel what it was like: warm, soft, and a little tacky. “I’ll see you soon, honey,” she told him just before kissing his forehead with her cherry blossom lips.

“But mom-“

“We’ve got lots of time ahead of us, honey. Don’t worry,” she smiled that warm smile once more. “I promise.”

She then took two steps back, letting Adrien know that she was leaving. She was about to turn around when Gabriel called her name. This time, there was no anger in his tone anymore. There was no more hatred, and no pain, only genuine sincerity.

She then slowly turned to look at him.

“Forgive me,” he asked, still on his knees. “Please.”

“I am not the one that you should ask for forgiveness,” she replied, and I know what she meant. They then started looking at each other silently for a moment, and then Emilie’s soft voice echoed in my mind saying that she forgives him.

The sun was finally setting, and Emilie considered it as her cue to leave. She levitated and gave one last look at Adrien, then at Gabriel. She gave them both one smile that I know was promising something. “I’ll talk to you soon,” she told them both, and this time, her tone came with so much hope.

The flowers catapulted upwards and exploded. It scattered everywhere in Paris. I can’t believe I’ve used so much of it. Somehow I can feel that they are the ones dispersing themselves, and it honestly took quite a moment for me to realize that this whole thing was ringing a bell. When I finally caught sight of two daffodils in the scatter, I finally gathered that this wasn’t just some floral shower. This was a lucky charm cleansing and the flowers and petals were returning to their rightful places and homes. Some memories might be wiped away, but that’s for the lucky charm to decide. After all, lucky charm knows best.

Watching the cleansing made me feel lighter and more secure. I then realized that I have never felt such a feeling, but it kind of reminded me of the sunset in my New York apartment. It reminded me of the oleanders and begonias and the scent of hairspray I used to secure my pointe shoes. It kind of felt like home.

The cleansing was about to end, and at that moment, my vision turned hazy. All I can see was a blinding white light, but I never panicked. Then Emilie’s voice echoed in my mind again. “See you soon, darling,” she said. Somehow, in the deepest and farthest part of me, I believed that she was talking to me.

All the blinding lights disappeared, and I was back under the grounds in Gabriel’s secret garden. I let my eyes adjust to the low light and I was just in time to see the purple feather phasing through the irises. I picked the feather up and tried to put it back in my head, but it dissolved while it was still between my fingers. I looked at Emilie and she looked just like the moment I first saw her a few days ago. It’s as if we never talked, and nothing happened. I almost thought it was all just a dream, but then I saw that I was still wearing the Mayura outfit. I fixed the irises a little and almost tried to applaud myself for her having her dryad-like form resemble her so much.

I stood up and started fidgeting with the feathers on my skirt as I admired them. I then marveled at the thought. Somehow, it’s done. I held my breath as I processed the whole thing from beginning to end and I let out one deep sigh of relief. It was the best feeling somehow. It was so overwhelming I almost cried.

I thought about New York, of home. I thought of Marie and Jean and all the chocolate stuff they made for me. I thought of apologizing to daddy. I thought of cleaning my room and planting more flowers in our garden back in New York. I thought of walking in Central Park and when I finally had the heart to do it, I started crossing the bridge in my Mayura outfit and then I suddenly felt sluggish.

My legs were turning to jelly to the extent that I cannot keep up walking. I then felt weaker that I even had to hold on to the railings on either side just so I could stand. This was probably what Nooroo told me. This must be what Duusu warned me for.

I can feel my strength and senses leaving me little by little, like red seeds of dandelion being blown by the wind. I know I just promised that there will be no more passing out for me, but this time was different. I was starting to feel weak, almost defenseless, but I was never really afraid.

I let myself fall on my knees then, all the pain that I had returned in one blow, overwhelming me. I laid myself flat in the middle of the bridge with my back against the steel floors. It felt cold as I stared on the now blurry ceiling of Gabriel’s secret garden. At this moment, I know sleep was trying to find me and so I let it. I waited for it. My vision turned from hazy grey to pitch black and all my pains ebbed. I remember feeling this after a series of rehearsals where I end up so tired that I directly doze off the moment I slam myself on the bed.

This is where Persephone meets her demise, I thought.

I let out a soft and deep sigh before deciding to yield. I then closed my eyes, almost happy to know that things turned all right. Paris can sleep safely tonight, and I thought maybe I could too, and then I drifted off. I can feel myself slipping away and then someone called my name twice.

I woke up and was instantly blinded by something bright, pale, and blue. Everything beneath me was warm, the good type of warm and I can hear soft shushing everywhere. I can smell something musky, spicy, and a hint of vanilla. As my eyes finally adjusted, a pale blue sky greeted me. It was a necessary kind of blue and as I pulled myself up to sit, bold and vibrant yellows overwhelmed me. The musk and spice grew stronger as wind shushed and brushed my hair.

I was sleeping right in the middle of a field of daffodils.

I tried to swallow and internalize everything as the clean air kissed my bare face and skin. I must be in the countryside of France, but why am I here? How did I even get here?


	10. marinette

chapter nine

marinette

I revelled in the subtle warmth of the sun in my face as I continued to marvel at the finesse of everything. Everything was perfect and stunning, as if they were straight out from a grand painting. Quaint. Peaceful. Beautiful. There was a glorious tranquillity scattered in the air. A splendid serenity was strewn all over; from the surface of warm earth to the satin-like petals of the daffodils, and for the first time since everything that happened, I am calm. I can even hear myself breathing.

I lay down again and look up at the sky as thin patches of clouds pass by. The sound of my deep breaths casually joined the hushed symphony of the wind as I started touching the yellow satins. _They’re real_, I thought to myself once the contacts were made. They’re very real, and beautiful, and perfect. There was no other way to put it, even though daffodils had never been in my top lists of flowers. I’ve always gone for lilies and carnations, and as my fingers were relishing to the satin and velvety feel of the petals, I heard my name.

The sound was so faint, like someone was whispering it. I almost thought it was just the wind, or that the wind did it, but I was going ahead of myself. I tried to sit up again to find out if there’s someone here with me and then I heard it again, but there’s nobody else here.

Calmly, I looked around, searching since the sound doesn’t seem threatening after all. Then I stood up slowly, and that’s when I was able to take a good look at the place and my jaw dropped. There were hills and mountains in the distance. The field of daffodils stretched so far that I can still see pops of yellows up ahead. There were birds and butterflies and bees, but I didn’t see anyone, so I started to walk.

The earth was warm, and as I continued to walk, I realized that I was _walking_. There was no pain, and as I looked down, the bruises were gone. My jeans were clean, and so was my sleeveless top. All scratches and pain, even the one in my temple, were gone. Everything was gone. Even the evidence of my life-changing trip during the chorus of Coppélia was gone too. Still in disbelief, I bent and lifted my foot, reached out to touch it. The pain was really gone. It wasn’t just getting numb.

I slowly put it down, still astounded, and continued to walk, taking a good look at the place. It looked like the afternoon, but I really can’t say. I knew for a fact that this wasn’t the French Pyrenees. I don’t remember the French Pyrenees having a wide field exclusive only for yellow daffodils.

Still confused, I continued walking, curious on how far these daffodils go, and then I heard my name once again. I jolted and whirled, but there were only mountains and hills behind me. Not a single soul was to be found. I stared blankly at the hills and started asking whoever’s calling me wherever in this ocean of daffodils they may be. I waited for the sound to call me again, and the adrenaline kicked in as I planned and craved to follow it.

“Where are you?” I asked again, but only the hills and hushing of winds dared to answer. “Who are you?” I asked one more time, but nothing. No one.

I know I’m supposed to be scared, but I wasn’t, so I carried on walking.

I know I’ve walked a long way and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t going on in circles, but it looked like I didn’t move at all. Everything still looked the same, or maybe this field was wider than I thought. I began to slowly turn around and when I saw the trail I’ve left, like a crack in a golden tapestry, I came at ease. At least I was really moving, I thought, and then I started feeling bad about all the daffodils I’d stepped on.

I took another deep breath, let it out of my nose and continued on walking ahead. For some reason that I don’t know, I was so determined to find out how far this golden field goes. I assumed that it was just my feet feeling the frenzy to move after months of limping and slow walking that I almost forgot how it felt like.

I would catch the vanillic scent of daffodils from time to time. Sometimes they would smell like something spicy, and there are times where they seem to be muskier, just like most flowers do and the scent made me remember the begonias and oleanders that I have back in New York. I also remembered the tiny flowers, ‘weeds’, as Jean would call them, which tenaciously grew on my terrace. Adrien’s roses and lilies also came into my mind. They must be pretty dry right now, I thought, and Jean must have thrown them all away already. I ultimately felt bad about it, and I hated myself for taking it for granted. That was the first time that Adrien gave me flowers. That was the first time that _someone_ gave me flowers.

I believe I’ve walked a mile now, but I don’t feel myself sweating despite the presence of the sun. Somehow, it wasn’t really that hot or maybe the sun was just starting to set itself. I don’t even feel tired, or thirsty, or in need to take a break. I just carried on walking, and things got dreary. I started stepping on the ground harder, trying to bury a small part of my feet, feeling the soft and moist earth underneath. I even started picking some daffodils along the way, trying to make a bouquet out of it even though I have no idea what to do with it afterwards.

I was about to pick another one to add on to my golden bunch when I sensed a slight change in the air’s smell. There was no musk or spice in it. It was way far from the scent of vanilla. I stopped whatever I was doing and took a whiff, trying to be sure. The scent was still floral but no longer natural and I turned around once again, trying to see if there’s someone here with me because I am pretty sure that what I was sensing was a perfume. The kind that mom used to wear.

I continued to take a whiff, it’s still in the air but no one was ever near me. Nobody was there.

The scent continued to linger, and I allowed myself to imagine that someone was truly there lurking, no matter how creepy, but every time I turned to look, no one was there. I then imagined that whoever’s wearing it might be just ahead, even though I know it was impossible to carry the scent this far. I hustled, the bouquet of daffodils still in my hands as I listened to other daffodils breaking in every step I made. I then switched to tiptoeing, and that’s where things got less dreary.

For some unknown reason, I had fun doing it. Maybe it’s because it brought me back to the time where I used to sneak out of my room and into mom’s just so I could try on the makeups she’d left on her dresser. The memory had me in a trance that I almost lost my balance. I hastily tried to catch myself and lost hold of the flowers, making them scatter all over.

I then bent, which was surprisingly easy, and started finding those that I dropped. I wasn’t expecting it to be this difficult, but since it’s a field of yellow daffodils, I had a tough time trying to find out which one is which. I was only able to collect five of them when I started noticing a strip of horizontal blue ahead. I squinted as I realized that the sun was setting behind the thin patch of blue, so I squinted harder, trying to make sure that my mind wasn’t just making things up.

Five daffodils fell as I absent-mindedly dropped them again the moment I realized this field doesn’t go all the way forever. I could’ve jumped with glee knowing that there is something out there and that’s where I started running.

I ran and ran and forgot the daffodils I left behind, and to the new daffodils I am destroying. I never even bothered to look down at them. Both my eyes are fixed on that horizontal strip of blue that I was almost afraid to lose sight of it. I was like a moth attracted to the hottest of flames.

I can feel myself getting closer. And then it almost seemed that time went faster than usual. The sun was setting so fast it looked like those transitions I see in movies. I then quickened my pace as the once light blue sky turned to deep purple. Stars of different colours popped and appeared up above me, mesmerizing me, and when I finally looked ahead, I saw an ocean and wasted no time to go to it. I ran faster but was suddenly put to a halt. The field never went forever as I stood at its end. I stood at the edge of the cliff covered by daffodils and below it was the shore that meets a calm sea.

I stood and stared blankly as I tried to swallow everything. I couldn’t smell the salt in the sea. Instead, the floral perfume kept on wafting and clinging to certain patches of air.

I sat at the edge of the cliff with both my legs dangling as I gulped all the surreal things that have been going on. It was never cold. I never even shivered, not even once, though the sea breeze kept blowing, and I was barefoot and wearing a sleeveless top and I might have looked like I was waiting for something, but the truth is I was thinking. I never had such peace and serenity in my life before and I think this was a good place and time to think. I laid down in the bed of daffodils I made for myself, legs still dangling.

It’s as if the stars move and change positions and colours like misguided glitters or fireworks, dancing with such grace and subtlety. They were the inconstant stars. I wasn’t able to help myself from admiring the whole. I kept staring at them as I thought of the blurred city lights and starlight that hovered over New York. Then one thought led to another…

I thought of going back to the studio company because I have no idea what it’ll be or what I’ll be doing if it wasn’t ballet. It wasn’t just something I can do or like to do. It has always been something I love to do. I then thought of going back to Hales’ and perhaps apologize for giving her such an unnecessarily hard time. I planned on having dinner with Marie on the dining table. It’s funny, I thought, on how I missed noticing those that had tolerated and stayed with me despite my ineptitude. The reason they did would always be a mystery and wonder to me.

Marinette and Sabrina, and the rest, crossed my mind, making me wonder how they all stayed and saved me even though I never gave them a single reason to. I have always been aware of it, my misdemeanours. I know I was more than terrible and they hate me, but somehow, I realized that none of them ever dared to push me away. They’d always take me back as soon as it happened and I have always been scared for it to happen. I have always feared them leaving me, abandoning me. I knew it would come to that point someday, and it did, but I did nothing. Instead, I pushed them to push me away. I knew they’d leave one way or another, but I couldn’t let them stay just because I was sad and lonely, so I gave them tons of reasons to leave. I laid their hands with tons of reasons to leave me, even though I secretly don’t want them to.

I remembered mom leaving me with that suitcase for the second time, and how Sabrina never called even though I never changed my number. I remembered how Adrien would push me away from him, and how they all seemed relieved every time I wasn’t there.

The thoughts were consuming me and the starry sky blurred as tears pooled in my eyes. I let myself cry silently until I smelled something burning. I wiped my eyes and pulled myself up as I searched, but nothing seemed to be burning. There was no smoke, nor a patch of flame, but the burning smell continued to linger. It was so apparent in the air and it reminded me of my mother and how she’d light incense candles in the house. She had been in a phase where she was really fond of Chinese culture. I think I can see why she almost chosen Marinette over me.

I waited for the smell to disappear. It took quite a moment for it to do so, and as I held one deep breath, I heard my name. I looked around, startled and annoyed at the same time. No one was around, and somehow I was agitated. I am not hearing stuff, I told myself. I’m pretty sure that someone or something out there was playing games at me.

“I’m here,” I said, a little loud.

“Can you hear me?” the hushed voice replied, and I tried to recognize it but got no luck.

“Yes,” I answered with a softer tone as I stared at the daffodils being lit by the celestial lights. I then asked it what this place is, why I’m here, and how in the stars did I get here, but it asked me the same question.

“Yes, I can hear you,” I told the voice.

It kept asking me questions and calling me in between. I know that something is wrong here. There was something I missed. I was about to ask the voice who they were when it called me again. This time, there was something familiar about it. Too familiar. I choked, trying my hardest not to cry as the heart-breaking realization sank in.

“Chlo?” it called again.

Only Adrien calls me that. Only Adrien would call me that way twice.

No wonder why everything seemed seamless. No wonder why I never felt tired, or hungry, or thirsty. I was right. None of these perfections ever seemed right, even though they were perfect. Too perfect. Now I know why I never felt like sleeping, and that’s because, in reality, I already am. This was my solitude, my version of a perfect entrapment.

Warm and heavy tears fell. They were already beyond my control, and so I let them fall and let the comforting silence take over.

The sun had just risen. It should feel like a brand new day, but I know it really isn’t. I have a feeling that things don’t change here. The daffodils were still abloom with no signs of them withering. All of them were in bloom and I found no small buds at all. The sea was just as calm as yesterday, or so I thought.

I began walking around and started picking daffodils to make another bouquet as I try not to wander off and lose my way back to the cliff. I found some plucked daffodils, they were fresh and scattered all over the growing ones. I presumed they were the ones I’d left and lost yesterday, so I picked them all up, let them join the new batch. I then noticed that the trail I’d created yesterday was gone. There was no sign of them.

The bouquet was too large for me to hold even with both hands, and so I went back to my spot on the cliff.

I did nothing to the bouquet of daffodils. I merely just stared at them while they sat silently on my lap, their colour rivalling my blonde hair. The sky was the colour of my eyes. I would even hear my name again once in a while, but I never bothered answering them right now. I know that they can’t hear. I am almost dead to do such a thing.

I would smell the floral perfume and sometimes, new scents would come and introduce themselves in such a fleeting manner. That made me guess who is trying to wear it out there in the real world. My afternoon was captured by one in particular. It was the first one, the one I’d sensed yesterday. The one who smelled like the one mom used to wear. Maybe mom is out there too, maybe she came back for me, I thought while I fantasized about it, trying to waste the time, waiting for the afternoon to turn into night.

My days never changed. I spent the same day doing the same things, and as bland as it may seem, I kind of like it. There was something about the little bit of peace it gave me. I would walk, return, ponder, and wait. And I’ll just simply do them all over. It was a routine, but the good kind. Sometimes I would touch and graze my fingertips, kissing the daffodils and decided never to pick one ever since I knew that they never wither at all. Not even when they are completely uprooted. Everything here is like clockwork, and they were growing unto me. I liked it. I loved it.

One day, I turned the bouquets into a flower crown. It was afternoon when I finished the whole thing, and dusk came so fast and sudden. As I put on the crown that now looked like a luminous and whimsical wreath, I heard music playing. It wasn’t faint. It almost sounded like they’re all over and all around this place, and before I even knew it, Tchaikovsky had already begun engulfing the place with his suites. I even imagined that it was the daffodils playing Sleeping Beauty and Swan Lake. I let out a small laugh after that silly thought.

I hurriedly got on my feet and started dancing with the wreath of daffodils still sitting on my head. I danced to both Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty, and I made up some steps and figures on my own as I danced along. And as I was doing it, I realized how I missed it so much, but all the while, it felt like I never stopped at all. Everything was perfect, despite the lack of pointe shoes and daffodils. Somehow, they don’t feel like getting in the way. I enjoyed it so much that I smiled. I believe I have danced the night away. I was elated but was suddenly caught off-guard as the sun rose at such a fast pace. Bright light instantly flooded everything, it blinded me and I tripped while I was in the middle of doing fouettés.

I fell on the warm earth and daffodils. The music was still playing, and the sun was blinding me, making me squint even when I was rubbing them and wiping out tears. The bright light never left, but I opened my eyes otherwise. And then things changed.

I found myself trying to look at the grand window where the blinding light passed through. I guess my solitude changed. Despite the haziness of everything, I can see a silhouette of a slender woman standing in front of the window, her back turned against me. She was standing against the way of the light and then the floral-like perfume wafted through the air. I know who this woman is.

“Mom,” I called, but she didn’t seem to hear me with an almost broken voice so I called her one more time, louder. She slowly turned then made her way towards me, her actions almost filled with a sense of urgency.

“Mom,” I called her once more, but it was Emilie’s face that greeted me. She was wearing an anxious smile.

“Oh dear, no, but we’re here, okay,”

I just stared at her, confused, and then she started touching my hair and my face. Her expression was a mixture of something I can’t say, but I was sure that there was joy in it. Tchaikovsky was still playing. She sobbed and gave out small laughs when she was trying to cup my face, moving them from side to side as if trying to find scratches or sands of glitters.

“Wait here,” she whispered and rushed away from me, then she started calling out Marinette and Sabrina, Nino and Alya. She was screaming as she told them I was finally awake. The music stopped playing after that.

I started asking myself if this was real or not. I sat up, expecting to struggle, but I didn’t. I then wiggled my toes underneath the duvet. I reached out for my ankle but as soon as I finally got to touch the soft and cottony texture of the duvet, a sense of familiarity kicked in. I’ve been here before. This wasn’t my first time to take a hold of it, and then my eyes wandered around the room. This is Adrien’s room. I’m in Adrien’s bed.

A patch of vibrant yellows at the corner of my eyes caught my attention. Daffodils. They smelled just like the ones back there. I reached out to touch one, and the texture was identical to those in my ‘solitude’ and then the muffled sound of rushing steps took me out of my reverie.

Marinette, Nino, Alya, and Sabrina stood by the foot of Adrien’s bed, blocking the light from the ceiling-to-floor window. Their expressions were almost similar to that of Emilie’s before. I stared at them, not knowing what to say next, but then Sabrina broke the silence.

“Chloé,” she called, raising both hands as if trying to calm me down or restrain me. “I can explain.” There was a bit of panic in her voice, and that brought to me some familiarity.

_Explain what_, I thought to myself, and then Marinette sat on the side of the bed. “How are you feeling?” she asked just before Emilie barged in saying that she’d called him and he was on his way. Adrien, probably. She then started asking me the same question.

“I don’t feel anything,” I said, and soon realized how wrong it sounded. “Pain, I mean.” Pain has been the first thing I was expecting.

“It was really an accident, Chloé,” Sabrina started. “I really didn’t mean to do it.”

“It’s fine,” I told her with a less broken voice even though I have no idea what.

“She accidentally cut a semi-small part of your hair while we were trying to remove your clothes,” Alya blurted out, trying to explain. She gave emphasis on the words ‘semi,’ and ‘small’. “We do not want to move your body a lot for the fear that it may cause something and don’t worry, I’m studying to be a nurse and Marinette let you borrow her clothes,” she added as Sabrina started apologizing again.

“I cut some of it,” Marinette explained. “To even things out.”

I then slowly reached for my hair and tried to let them fall on my shoulders, but the ends just sat on it, almost just grazing through it.

“It’s fine,” I said again, still looking at my now short hair. “It’s not that it won’t grow back.”

“You look different,” Nino spoke for the first time and Alya scoffed at what he said, following it up with a bit of sarcasm. “And I’m sorry too, Chloé,” he added. “You know, with the-”

“He hit your face with his shield,” Marinette explained, and I remembered. I was half Morphosia at that time.

“It’s really fine,” I said, using the word ‘fine’ too many times now, but that didn’t stop Sabrina from apologizing over and over again.

“Stop apologizing,” I said to her, and I almost sound like I yelled. I almost sound cruel again, but none of them flinched. Not even Marinette, who was sitting so close to me.

I apologized and then silence took over for a few moments so I got to my feet. Marinette stood up, trying to give me space. They looked at me when I finally nestled my feet on the white carpet. They all looked like they were trying to wait for something amazing to happen.

I took a deep breath, partly knowing and not knowing how this is all going to go. Marinette offered both of her hands, and I didn’t hesitate to take them. I held tight to her, trying to recall how I danced with the daffodils back there. Maybe I’ll never dance as I did back there. Perhaps I’ve danced enough already, I thought and then pulled myself up to stand and it was like I was never broken.

I let go of Marinette, trying to find out that this wasn’t just a dream. I started moving and twisting my feet like I would when I warm them up before rehearsals.

“I don’t feel anything,” I said, still looking at my feet in disbelief. “I don’t feel pain,” I added and continued on moving them in all possible ways.

“It worked,” Marinette’s words were full of relief and joy.

“What worked?” I asked as I slowly let go of her.

“Master Fu used the cat and ladybug miraculous to bring Mrs Agreste back, and they brought her back,” she explained as I fought the urge to ask who Master Fu was. I then remembered Nooroo telling me how great of a power it is when those miraculous are combined. Somehow, Gabriel was right too. Only Cat Noir and Ladybug’s miraculous can bring Emilie back.

“Then we decided to use it on you, to bring you back but you weren’t responding for a while,” she continued. “That is until-”

“How long was I out?” I asked, cutting her off.

“Five days,” Emilie said across the room. She looked a bit older than the last time I saw her. “Four nights,” she added, and I noticed that the gentleness in her voice was still there. I nodded at her, still thinking she could read my mind. I turned to Marinette who is still standing before me, almost looking pleased. I asked her to continue.

“You weren’t responding so Master Fu did something. Some kind of ritual where he burned incense and asters and let the smoke envelop you.” Now I know where the scent of burning incense came from. “And when Adrien spoke to you…” she faltered, and I waited for the words she was about to say next.

“What?” I asked.

“You cried,” she answered, and I very well remember. “We saw tears from your eyes and we knew that the miraculous worked and we just have to wait.”

“And here you are,” Alya announced, though I’m really not sure if she really was glad to see me. My eyes travelled from Marinette to Alya, and then to Nino and Sabrina. They were waiting for me to say something while I was getting stuck on the thought that they waited for me.

“Our miraculous brought you back. And fixed you,” Marinette added, and I looked down before finally asking it even though I knew how stupid I may sound.

“You waited for me?”

“Of course, silly!” Alya answered, and then Marinette urged me to eat.

They all led me, including Emilie, to the couch near a table where a tray of green tea cookies, macarons, and cupcakes with pastel-coloured frosting. The sight of it instantly had me salivating and the moment I planted myself on the couch, I started eating two pieces from each tray except for the cookies. I ate five of them and I’m sure it’s from Marinette’s bakery. Pastries this good should be from their bakery.

“I made that,” Marinette said, and I couldn’t tell her how great they were with my mouth full and busy chewing. “Sabrina helped me make it this morning.”

I paused and swallowed. “This morning?”

“Yes. What’s wrong?” Sabrina asked from somewhere in the room.

“Nothing,” I said, turning to look at her. “It’s actually really good,” I continued, and there was a familiar spark in her eyes when she heard me say it.

Marinette filled me in on what happened after the incident on the Eiffel tower. It took moments for Gabriel and Emilie and Nathalie to talk about everything, and Marinette spared me the dramas and skipped on by telling me how they tried to deal with Lila. Apparently, they tried settling things with her in the most ‘friendly’ way, but Lila has something bigger than a grudge.

I stopped when I finally had the fifth cookie and then I looked at the window and gathered from the light that it was already late afternoon. I slowly stood and turned to them. “I have to go home,” I whispered so I won’t sound so dismissive like the brat I was before. “In New York.”

I explained that it’s because I don’t want to but because I have to. I needed to. In fact, this was such a wonderful time, but if I had been gone for more than a week, things must have been hell for dad and Jean. Even Marie. But then I remembered that Gabriel had made up stories to cover my absence when he held me captive.

Marinette asked me to stay awhile, but since I wouldn’t budge because I really want to go, she asked me to wait for a while. She even explained that she and Adrien tried to cover up for my absence. They told my dad I took a spontaneous vacation, and that Adrien snuck into my room and took most of my things so they’ll think I’d really gone. They never told me where I went in their made-up stories.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be in New York in no time,” she said, reassuring me that she has an idea and knows someone that could do the thing. She excused herself and told us she was just going to call Master Fu. She smiled at me before leaving the room. I let my gaze follow her and then met Sabrina’s bluish-green eyes. I smiled, and she did the same.

“Can I have a moment with Chloé?” Emilie’s gentle voice broke the silence as she asked and the three of them left the room for the both of us. I sat again and Emilie sat next to me.

“Thank you,” she said as she covered my hands with hers. I know what she meant, so I smiled and nodded. “Anytime.”

She then held my hands like I did when we’re on the misty Pont de la Concorde.

“I understand if you can’t forgive Gabriel, but I want you to know that-”

“I forgive him,” I said, not letting her finish. “I forgive him,” I said softer the second time around. It was partly a lie. After all that he did, forgiving him won’t be so easy, but I know that it won’t be impossible. He actually wanted me dead! It would take me time, but I figured that Emilie needed some peace of mind.

Emilie’s eyes sparked and tears pooled, but the door suddenly opened, ruining such a sincere moment between us. It almost felt motherly. We both turned our head towards the door at the same time and saw Adrien closing the door. He then gave us an apologetic look when he saw us looking at him.

“He needs a moment with you too,” Emilie said before standing up. “He never left your side. He was really worried. The rest told him to have a walk and then you woke up.” She then walked towards Adrien where she touched his shoulder lightly before making her way out of the room.

I watched Adrien as he made his way towards me. I stood up and told him I’ve forgiven Gabriel and that I have to go back home, but he ignored all the things I said. Instead, he pulled me close to a tight hug I almost couldn’t even breathe. And then he held me by my temple, pulled me closer and kissed my forehead. His kiss lingered.

“Thank you,” he whispered and hugged me again. Softer and looser time. “And that’s for staying alive,” he added, and I understood his references.

I nodded, still trying to collect myself. “Now we’re even,” I said, because it’s all that I can manage as I attempt to make it casual.

He let out a small laugh and when I looked at him, I can almost say that he’s finally seeing through me. But then he always does. He was the only one who can make me vulnerable in a matter of a second. “Thank you, Chlo,” he said, thanking me again. “I have no other way to say it. Or show it. But I’m beyond grateful for what you’ve done.”

I just looked at him, not knowing what to say. He then held my right hand slowly and then kissed them, the same way he kissed my forehead.

“Stop thanking me,” I told him as I removed my hand from his. I gave him a small smile as I did it. “You can always just drop me home and we can call it square.”

He laughed and asked me to stay a little longer as we sat down on the couch. I told him I’d been here long enough already, but I know that he really wanted me to. I told him I can until Marinette gets back because she was the one who seem to have the idea. She always does. She was Ladybug after all, and I think he had the idea of what she was about to do too.

“You know what?” he asked while we looked at the setting sun. “If things were different back in the days, I think you and Marinette could have been great friends.”

“I think we will be,” I replied to him, sure enough, that we will be this time. “And you should totally ask her out,” I added, and he smiled, almost agreeing. We sat back. All we can do now is wait for the night to come. 


	11. la nouvelle maison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to apologize for the confusions

chapter ten

la nouvelle maison

The stars looked like tiny shards of broken glass. Fixed. Unmoving, and far different from the ones in my solitude. That’s because they’re real. Very real. This is real, I thought as I kept looking up at them from time to time. The five of us spent the time talking as we waited for Marinette to arrive. Emilie kept on bringing us trays of foods and pastries on the table, and I felt obligated to at least eat one from each tray.

They talked about how they’ve been and never even bothered to ask anything about me. Which was actually a good thing, after I finally thought about it. I really didn’t know where to start, or which part of my experience I should highlight if ever they wanted to know. I listened and laughed at the funny things they said, and Adrien can’t stop handing me macarons. I gave him a look when he tried to hand me the fourth macaron. It was purely unintentional.

“Now I understand why you find me annoying back in the day,” I said, and followed it up with a little smile as I attempted to recover from my misdemeanour while Nino talked about a funny incident that happened in one of his date nights with Alya.

Adrien smiled with his right hand still clutching the mint-coloured macaron. “Just a bit,” he said right after taking a bite of it. _Liar,_ I thought, as if I was never aware that he hated the way I’d clung unto him like a child, but that’s what makes him Adrien. He was sometimes too afraid to be truthful just so he can avoid hurting someone. I was the opposite. I have always been and was too honest and too coarse about it.

“Don’t lie to me just because you think it will spare me,” I mumbled as I leaned towards him. He stopped chewing, and for that, I know he was listening. “Don’t give me false regards just because you know I want it, or that you think I am too broken and too lonely,” I added and Adrien responded with small nods. I smiled at him, in an attempt to show that what I said was not an attack, but a plea.

Alya was studying to be a nurse. Sabrina was taking something in Natural Sciences. They told me that Marinette was taking Fashion and that some of her creations had already been in several shows. Some even appeared in high-end magazines already. My eyes would have sparked with the news if it could and somehow, I felt strangely happy and proud. There were no longer any disdains, like the ones I used to have with her. I was genuinely glad for her, but all I could say was “That’s wonderful”. I decided to say more, but when I was in the middle of saying how I loved and preferred her to have long hair, Emilie barged in and she was holding a shopping bag.

“Marinette called and told me she’ll be arriving soon.”

“Okay,” I said with a tiny voice that actually broke the silence that followed Emilie’s that sounded like a siren song.

She handed me the shopping bags and told me I needed to change because every hero should dress well for their homecoming. For the first time, ‘home’ and ‘hero’ felt like sunshine. The air became lighter than before and everything felt better. ‘Home’ and ‘hero’ gave me a sense of recognition. It gave me a sense of validation.

I took the bags from her and both Nino and Adrien considered it as their cue to dismiss themselves. Alya and Sabrina followed, excusing themselves with the reason that they needed to grab my stuff, which Marinette and Adrien had left in the library. Emilie was the last to leave. She told me that I can take my time, and that I can go down to Gabriel’s atelier whenever I’m finally ready. I smiled and thanked her. I have never been this ready in my life.

I squeezed myself into the new pair of dark blue jeans. There was a designer top and cashmere cardigan, which I laid on Adrien’s bed. Emilie might have been brain dead for quite a while, but she never lost her taste. There was also a pair of designer shoes encased in a box in the other bag, and that’s when I remembered that I left my flat shoes under this very bed.

The leathery surface of it was cold, telling me it had already been waiting for me for so long. I slipped them on and both comfort and familiarity flooded me, sending me aswoon but in such a safe and wonderful way. It was nostalgia taking over. I decided to leave Marinette’s comfy sleepwear top on and prepared for whatever reasons to say to Emilie why I left the top and the cardigan behind. Refusing such an offer can be considered rude sometimes, but something just doesn’t feel right if I’ll accept it. The jeans are enough, and I prefer to leave Paris with a little that is mine. I want to leave Paris this way. Comfortable.

My eyes wandered around the room and as soon as I finished making a French tuck. I made the bed and set the shopping bags right in the middle of it. This place and this bed was where it all started. This is where it should end. Both this room and this bed had served as my sanctuary, my almost deathbed, and I thought it deserves a nice fix on the edges and I’m pretty sure I also needed the closure.

I was never really the type to leave notes, but I thought I should at least try it in this one. I searched for some pen and something to write on in Adrien’s giant desk, and it took a long moment for me to think of what to write. A ‘thank you’ seems too simple and ‘goodbye’ sounds too sad. The ink started to blot on the green stick-it note that remained wordless, so I changed my mind and took three daffodils from the vase. I laid them on the middle of the bed, not too far from the shopping bags. _Let the daffodil speak on my behalf_, I thought.

One yellow daffodil for my lost hair and cardigan. Another yellow daffodil for Emilie’s hair and sunshine in my solitude. One more yellow daffodil for some things left and broken. I decided to add another one.

One yellow daffodil for a new light ahead.

I looked at the clock and it was eight forty-seven pm, and way past three o’clock in the afternoon back in New York, so I drew one deep breath before heading out and closing the door. After all, they’re all waiting for me down there.

Days ago, not sure how many, I passed this same hall, but things were different back then. For one, my hair was longer, and I was too broken to walk. Right now there is no limping, no tiptoeing, and no ankle pain. There are no cold marble floors anymore. This time is different, and better, so I took my time walking as I relish the normalcy. All the terrible and painful things that had happened are just one of the few things for me to remember. I walked like someone dignified tonight, but not like a rose who stood with all her glory. I was like that flower that had just tasted the first light of the sun after a long cold winter. I was a daffodil.

Everyone was randomly scattered in the atelier, and Max Kanté had just joined the group. Both Marinette and Adrien were talking to him. They all didn’t notice me coming in, but as soon as I closed the doors, their heads turned towards me. Especially Emilie’s.

“I know,” I started. “I just wanted to leave something to make me want to come back,” I added, which was partially a lie. Emilie smiled and asked for me to come to her, which I did. She fixed my now short hair as if trying to put them back in place. I let her.

“Whenever you’re ready, Chlo,” Adrien beckoned from across the room.

“Because we’re really not yet ready to let you go,” Marinette added, making me think what they said belonged in one sentence. Both of them looked like they’re asking me to stay a little while longer.

“I don’t want to leave too,” I told them, and this one is true. _And my business here is done_, I added in my mind. I finally fixed something for once. I finally fixed the messes I made and caused. I finally fixed myself, no matter how big or little that part of me might be, but I did. “It’s not like I’m never coming back, and I have to clean my room,” I added. Another truth. After all, the good things had just started.

Adrien and Marinette smiled. Ladybug and Cat Noir smiled at me, and it was the friendly kind of smile. The ones I always treasured the most.

“How about you, Max?” Marinette asked, turning to Max whom I just noticed to have grown more than a foot. He was almost as tall as Adrien.

“I’m ready when she is,” he replied, then turned to look at me. “Suits you by the way,” he added, and I know he meant the hair.

“Okay then,” Adrien said and handed Max a pair of old-fashioned glasses. Its lenses were clear and the whole thing almost lacked of designs, but I know this one was more than just glasses. I don’t even have to guess. It was a miraculous, and then a horse-themed kwami appeared in front of our eyes. Kaalki, as Max called it, was a very posh kwami.

Max then activated the miraculous and both Alya and Sabrina handed me my stuff. Sabrina gave me the designer satchel which contains my wallet, purse, coral-shade lip colour, and Chinelle perfume. Alya handed me the white mini-luggage that I’d brought along from New York. I returned the gesture by saying thank you, but that didn’t stop them from hugging me. I held them tight as well, knowing that this is where the goodbyes happen.

“I’ll see you soon,” I whispered to both of them, the three of us still entwined and I realized that I’ve hugged none of them before.

“I missed you, just so you know,” Sabrina said in reply and I told her that I missed her too. _More than you know_, I added silently.

Nino nodded at me. Emilie hugged me again and told me how beautiful I am. She even called me ‘dear’ again this time. Marinette hugged me too. It was a warm and tight kind. The lack of hesitation and awkwardness also surprised me when we held each other. I can even feel myself hugging her tight. Here was a friend that I never knew I had.

“See you soon Chlo,” she breathed, and though I’d already established that it’s only Adrien who calls me, or can call me that, I let her. I even smiled back.

“You too,” I replied as I turned and made my way to Max’s direction who was now enamoured with his horse-themed superhero costume. His dark hair turned to platinum blond.

“Max will take care of the coordinates,” Marinette explained as she took a few steps back. “Just tell him where you wanted to go. All you just have to do is step into the portal. It’ll take you wherever you want to go.” I nodded and told Max the address of my New York apartment. He then asked me to step back a little.

“Call me when you get home,” Adrien called, and I told him I would, even though I no longer have his number.

“I’ll be home in a second,” I told him as I secretly waited for him to give me a hug but then I remembered that he already had. I also remembered the kiss that should never have happened.

“Promise?” he asked, still not budging.

“Pinkie swear.”

Max uttered a word and then a luminescent green circle outlined in front of Emilie’s painting. The painting that took me to the other world below. The centre of the circle was like a black hole where a familiar, cosy scent was emanating. It was the smell of lilac freshener that Marie uses in the apartment. I used to hate it before. It was the smell of my apartment, my living room. Just a step and a portal away was my home. My new and old home.

I slowly turned my gaze toward them and smiled. It was not the kind of smile that will serve as something for them to remember me by. It was that kind of smile that promises something. Something good. “Au revoir,” I said to them softly before holding my breath and stepping into the portal.

The experience was almost too mundane. It was like leaving the movie theatre and into the bright and well-lighted hallway of malls. It was almost too underwhelming that I forgot I was holding my breath. The portal brought me to the living room of the apartment. It was the golden hour, almost four o’clock in the New York afternoon, and this spot of the living room was the most beautiful in this time of the day. It was like I travelled back in time since this will be my second sunset of the day. Marie wasn’t here, and I’m sure she was out for something.

I started pacing around as soon as I knew I was becoming overwhelmed with the idea that I am finally home. I removed my shoes and started pacing around barefoot. The tile floor was both warm and cool, the temperature of comfort. I then let my eyes wander around as I took everything in, little by little. Piece by piece. And then my eyes fell on the frames. Those were the ones I’d thrown and smashed before. Some of them hung on the walls, some sat on top of desks together with the various figurines and menageries. All of them have new frames, and I know Marie fixed them all.

As if I was on autopilot, I started removing and taking the framed photos. I took everything except for the one with a photo of me. It was actually a photo from the tabloid which I managed to cut out because on the right side of the photo was me. It was taken during the production of Coppélia and no; it wasn’t the time when I tripped. I just got into some journalist’s shot and now I have a version of me that’s frozen with my own glory, pressed between glass and softwood.

I hid all the rest under my bed and when I returned to the living room, the grand window was inundating the whole place with the golden afternoon light. The begonias and oleanders outside relished with its touch and they were inviting me to do the same. I went towards the window, watched the flowers and let the golden light kiss me. I watched the shadowy outline of the trees in Central Park, and though the light was blinding, I never dared to close my eyes. Some things are just too beautiful to look at, even when it hurts.

There was a beautiful budding begonia, and I started marvelling at it that I could hear myself breathing, and then the thought of Adrien waiting for my call came. _Not now_, I thought, and continued to look at the young begonia. Maybe tomorrow they’ll be starting a new life, I thought. And so will I, then the door flew open. Marie entered, hugging a grocery bag with one hand. She hadn’t seen me yet.

“Hi,” I called, and then she turned to my direction, smiling without a hit of hesitation and discomfort.

“You’re home.”

Somehow, those were the words of validation that I needed the most.

Marie headed straight to the kitchen, and I followed.

“What do you want for dinner?” she asked, and I knew she wanted this as a wonderful night for me. Her job was to make the most and best for me, but it doesn’t have to be that way. Not anymore.

“I’ll have what you have,” I told her with a smile, and it was in this moment where she noticed that I was walking normally.

“You’re okay!” she cajoled. She then started looking at my ankle, examining it. “How?” she asked, and I can’t blame her disbelief.

“Some Chinese man in Paris did some weird ritual by burning Asters and incense candles,” I explained. It was a half-lie, half-truth. I’m sure it wasn’t just the Asters. 

“Oh, I hear burning asters can drive away spirits,” she remarked, and then removed her eyes from my ankle and continued taking out the products in the grocery bag. “It’s miraculous,” she cajoled again, and she’s right. Everything was. Right now is, and somehow, I am too. I am miraculous.

“You need some help? I can slice some things,” I told her in an offering tone that she cannot refuse to. And she didn’t.

The sun was setting as Marie and I prepared for our dinner. I then told her that both of us will eat on the dining table together, although it took a few wider smiles from me before she finally gave in to my wishes. She’s never eaten with me ever since dad hired her to be my nanny. I discussed with her about my plan on going back to the studio company between glazed chicken and peas. I told her I really wanted to continue, and she agreed. She told me I really should.

“When do you go back?” she asked, while we were finally cleaning up the table.

“Tomorrow too soon?” I answered with a question.

“No,” Marie said. And even if she said yes, I might have still gone in the morning. 


	12. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where we seal the deal...  
i think :)  
we never know

epilogue

chloé manette

Seven. I’ve pricked my forefinger seven times. My pointe shoes have been a little loose lately during the rehearsals, so I tinkered with it as soon as I got home. It was Marie who used to do these things for me.

I was on the floor when I removed the inner sole that felt like felt paper. I then sewed on new elastics and ribbons using floss because someone in the studio company who complimented me in my lilac leotards with floral mesh, told me they are a lot stronger than thread. My thumb and forefinger were red when I finished and then grabbed the pair of shears in my backpack and started scoring the sole with its edges.

The front door flew open, and I shivered as a gust of cold breeze invited themselves in. It has been raining in New York and I have been very careful in trying to get to the studio and back. I cannot afford to trip and break again. Even my friends in the studio say the same. They say it’s a resurrection. They were in disbelief the moment they saw me return weeks ago and I have to lie about going into some pilgrimage to some French saint before I did a few sets of fouettées. It was the dancing that did the work in convincing them I am well and mended.

“Here’s mail for you,” Marie said as she closed the door. I can tell that she was damp as she handed me two boxes of some delivery express. It was in French. It’s from France. Paris, I’m sure. “I think it has been there for a while, I forget to check the mail sometimes.”

“That’s okay,” I said, refraining from scoring the shank. “Thank you,” I told her and then she headed her way to the kitchen with one arm cradling a small grocery bag and the other clutching a bouquet of daffodils and gypsophila.

“Daffodils.”

“Yes,” she turned to me, still walking. “I thought they looked lovely, and the lady said they work perfect with the baby’s breath,” she added. Her French accent was growing unto me.

“It does,” I said, finally opening the box. As always, there’s bubble wrap. I carefully took it out of the bubble wrap, which I set aside carefully and saved it for some boring times. The box was smaller than that of the carrier. It was that kind of neck box that doesn’t fully close. There was a gap between the lid and the base. Designer, I thought. It has a velvety texture and a deep majestic colour of bluish-green. There were golden curlicues embossed at its centre. It’s minimal and sophisticated. It looked and felt expensive.

I lifted the lid with such ease and smoothness, and then a textured paper the colour of ivory greeted me. The letter E and A were whimsically engraved in the centre. A calling card, I told myself, and then I realized that the curlicues on the lid were the letters E and A. “EA”, I whispered as I lifted the paper closer and that’s where I noticed that there’s a note. They were scribbled down words that just didn’t belong.

_marinette and mother created this for you_

It was the most wonderful thing. Cradled by the velvet in the box was a hair comb so similar to the bee miraculous, but instead of a bumblebee, five peacock feathers were donned on top of it. It was mosaic like; made of blue, green, and purple rhinestones with gold edging. It almost resembled the outfit I was on when I used the peacock miraculous. Then I started adding two and two together: EA. Emilie Agreste. Adrien. Of course. I grazed my fingers on top of it, slightly afraid to touch it. This should be the kind of heirloom I’d be passing on. It was so beautiful I cannot fathom how and why. Je ne sais quoi crossed my mind. I took it out of its cradle and examined, then I saw that something was engraved on the back of it. I tilted the comb and saw my name cursively engraved on the gold back of the comb: chloé manette

I looked at the ivory-coloured paper again and reread Adrien’s words, and then I noticed that there are other scribbles on the back. The whole thing looked like it was done by someone in a hurry.

_my regards for you are true_

_p.s. why didn’t you call me_

_the kwamis are missing you_

You forgot the question mark, I thought.

_father sent you something_

Slowly, I set everything aside and grabbed the second box. The somehow smaller one. A tingling curiosity dawned on me. It was way smaller than the one that Emilie sent. It was velvety as well, only that this one was of blackish grey colour. In the middle of the lid was an embossed G, the colour of a night sky. Gabriel and his aesthetics. I opened the lid and was rendered speechless for a moment.

There was no calling card. No note.

Inside the box was my onyx necklace.

It’s as if someone opened all the windows and the door. Chills ran through me, even my nape felt icy cold. I calmly stood up and swallowed. I glided towards the desk where the phone was sitting. I held it, and it was cool, like wet marble. My other hand was clutching the ivory paper, slightly trembling as I pressed the number, dialling.

The windows were foggy because of the cold, but I can still see the begonias and oleanders feasting on the pouring rain. The downpour has this perplexing musicality to it. It was a swan song, a mixture of fading melancholia and sweet forgetting. I can almost imagine the crystal-like dews that will be left hanging until tomorrow.

The downpour continued as I waited for someone’s voice to break the ringing and the sound of rain pouring. Now is a good time to call someone in Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who took the time reading this creation of mine. I'm really more than grateful for you guys. You're all rays of sunshine :) Happy eastertide! I hope you all get to have new beginnings and new light ahead.   
Oh, constructive criticisms are always welcome as I take advantage of this quarantine that's going on. #amwriting  
Stay safe everyone! Happy Easter! <3


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